


Call It What You Want

by Stardust_Steel



Category: Dragon Ball
Genre: BAMF Vegeta, BAMF goku, Badass vegeta, Eventual Romance, F/M, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Minor Bulma Briefs/Vegeta, Pre-Slash, Romance, Slow Burn, Smart Son Goku (Dragon Ball), Trauma, Vegeta being Vegeta (Dragon Ball), Wholesome, badass goku, but i will not shoot down other ships, i will die for my ship, minor goku/chichi, no pairing hate, team fic, team plotting to bring them together, the z gang look out for eachother
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-09
Updated: 2021-01-09
Packaged: 2021-03-05 23:15:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 45,590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25613452
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stardust_Steel/pseuds/Stardust_Steel
Summary: They say that love is in the little things. An exploration of Goku and Vegeta's relationship through the eyes of the Z-fighters, as well as their own. Teamfic, get together fic.Chapter 1: Chichi sees first (and approves?)Chapter 2: Goku protects Vegeta and almost dies. Vegeta realises he cares for this idiot and panics, going into crisis mode.Chapter 3: Bulma steps in to help her endearingly, emotionally dumb husband, but possibly makes matters worse.Chapter 4: Vegeta is trapped but he starts to let go.Chapter 5: Future Trunks is fascinated at their relationship.Chapter 6: Eighteen enters the game and plays her cards. Goten helps.
Relationships: Son Goku & Vegeta (Dragon Ball), Son Goku/Vegeta (Dragon Ball)
Comments: 206
Kudos: 202
Collections: Baby Buu’s Favs, Kakavege Week, My Dragonball Favs, Thunder & Lightning





	1. Chi Chi sees first (and approves)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Evilkitten3](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Evilkitten3/gifts).

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Of course she had seen. Of course she had noticed that there was something more than platonic that existed between the two last saiyans in the universe, something a little more than stringent rivalry or simple brotherhood. 
> 
> Perhaps it was the way they had looked at each other in the immediate wake of the Evil Buu fight*, all the way back to that time at the Lookout. Chichi had seen her husband’s relaxed stance completely brighten up and his trademark cheerful smile turn utterly free in a way she had not seen before as he looked towards Vegeta, who to her shock had looked back over his shoulder with his own little smirk, somehow softer than she had ever seen him.
> 
> What surprised her was that she could accept it. She understood. They were eternal visitors with no home, home was eachother.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In exploring the friendship between Goku and Vegeta from the eyes of the other fighters, as it develops into something more, I aim to stay as canon compliant as much as possible to DBS - which is why you'll see that the italicized scenes below are all actually my tweaking of actual scenes from the series. Feel free to ask which one from where, I'll do my best to pinpoint it.  
> This is set to update weekly- fortnightly, unless someone convinces me that it is worth enough to update faster. Enjoy this, I hope it helps bring a little smile to your day :)

Chapter 1: Chi Chi sees first (and approves) 

_Two weeks after the fight against Kid Buu_

A sunlit clearing, warming their faces as they both lay panting on their backs, limbs pleasantly heavy post-spar. Goku basked in the familiarity, the warmth, the safety of it all.

“Hey, Vegeta. I’ve been meaning to say. Thanks for taking care of Goten while I was gone.”

" ' **Gone'** is nice little euphemism for ' **being dead for seven years** ', Kakarot." Vegeta didn't seem fazed in the slightest by Goku's seemingly random turn of thoughts. Perhaps he’d gotten used to it because they'd spent so much time around each other lately.

"Hehe. While I was dead, then." Goku conceded the point, but then pressed his own. "Thanks anyway, Vegeta. For looking out for my family."

A grunt, a slight flush, a turn of the face. "You're being ridiculous as always. I didn’t do anything of the sort, idiot. I couldn’t care less about your spawns. You should thank the Namekian, maybe. ”

"Naw, come on, Vegeta, I know that’s not true!" A cheerful laugh, a careless dismissal of the harsh words. Goku wondered why Vegeta always insisted on showing and making others see the prince's worst sides. Making it seem like he didn't care. “Even if you’re a jerk most of the time, I know you have a good heart.” 

Vegeta twitched irritably. Whoops. Goku was starting to push some buttons here. “Name me one time that made you believe so," the prince challenged him. Always looking for a fight, this fierce one. Goku smiled fondly. Maybe others found it offputting, but he found it rather cute. Vegeta was like the Briefs' household cat, always hissy, never mind his smaller stature.

But Goku didn't back down from fights either. "Well, that time you fought against Fat Buu, and made sure **both** Goten and Trunks were safely out of harm's way, not just Trunks.” Goku threw the challenge right back. Answer that, prince Bad Man. 

Said prince scowled at him. "I was going to blow up the whole place. There's no sense taking anyone else with me, whether he was my son or yours."

Goku frowned, realising the turn of their topic and not liking it. There was a strange little tightening in his chest whenever he thought about about the then Majin Vegeta’s suicide play in that fight against Fat Buu, even if the death wasn't everlasting. Goku wasn't someone who thought too deeply about things in general, but Vegeta was always a special case. 

Despite the move being ultimately futile against Buu’s regenerative capabilities, Goku recognized how momentous that sacrifice had been for Vegeta. Piccolo had told the Earth-raised saiyan in private, how Vegeta had gone in and blown himself up anyway, fully knowing that he would be erased in the afterlife because of his sins, never to see his family again. Ceasing to matter, to even exist. Reborn maybe as something else none of them would recognise or see again, here or in the afterlife.

How _lonely_ must it have been for the prince to realize what lay after death for him. How brave of him to _proceed_ anyway. _.._ but courage was something Vegeta never lacked. Even with Goku being absolutely ready to head there with him, the prince had chosen to fight alone.  
  
The way he had knocked Goku out right before going to martyr himself against Buu was something Goku was still smarting about, though. But that was a topic for another day.

To think that all the complexity, all the wounds and strength the proud warrior prince carried, could have been gone in the space of a second, written off to oblivion.The idea made dread rise in Goku’s gut to the point of nausea. The strength of the emotion rather surprised him, but maybe it was because he and Vegeta had gotten closer over the time since.

Goku shook his head. His thoughts went too deep in there. But he had to say this. "Nah, Vegeta,” he insisted. “I know what you’re doing. You can pretend when we’re around others, but I can see- _**you**_." 

Goku knew his words might sound non-sensical. He wasn’t the best with words, anyway. But he meant what he said. He always could see Vegeta as who he actually was. That potential and honour he had seen in Vegeta from the moment of their first battle; the glimmer of a heart he had seen on Namek as Vegeta lay dying at his feet. That heart had been so mired in tragedy and cruelty both endured and inflicted, but it was still there. A lesser man would have fallen, their very personalities and soul dissipated by violence. But Vegeta's spirit burned strong, and so did the good in him.

And that was the good Goku stubbornly chose to see, whatever else Vegeta tried to pretend to the world.

Vegeta looked stricken, vulnerable in a way Goku rarely ever saw him to be. The proud prince looked fragile then. “Kakarot.” A moment of quiet, a breath. A rare admission of guilt. “It was my stupidity that led us there. I wouldn’t have let the two become casualties for my mistakes. There’s nothing more to it.” 

Goku would give way today. Pretend to agree with him, without really agreeing. “If you say so, Vegeta. Thank you, still.”

* * *

_Months later_

Goku paused in frustration, his chest heaving as he stared down in consternation at the tree stump he'd been attempting to pull out for some time. Not too far away, his tractor glinted in the sunlight.

He had been trying to plow the fields of turnip he had planted some weeks ago. Since coming back to life and spending a good few years with his family after the Buu ordeal, he’d learnt some conventional skills that helped him earn a modest income, and one of them was farming. It was all due to Chichi. She had sat him down one night and they had had a serious conversation about the years that were missing between them.

Goku had felt guilty, of course, but not enough to be able to promise that he was going to significantly change: Saiyans were made to roam, to battle, and he, Son Goku, who was neither fully Saiyan nor fully earthling- more hybrid at heart than his hybrid sons could ever really be- was made to seek challenge. If there was another fight, another adventure, he would be there to meet it.

And somehow, Chichi understood and accepted that of him. But sweet, patient, stern Chichi, who had put up with a lot from him over the years and was still somehow there, had made clear that earning an income was important to her, so it was the least he could do to keep her happy. After all foraging for food came naturally to a saiyan and to him, this was just a more industrialised form of it. 

That day Goku had been doing perfectly fine with the aged tractor until he’d come across a particularly large tree stump that refused to budge and got in the way of the tractor’s merciless groove. He had spent the next half an hour trying to uproot the large stump with little success.

Finally, he sat back. “Man! This tree stump is as stubborn as Vegeta!” And just like that, a smile bloomed on his lips as his thoughts turned to the other saiyan, and his mind began to wander.

Goku knew something about his relationship with Vegeta had changed during the fight against evil Kid Buu. Outwardly the prince’s demeanor had not significantly shifted, but there was less anger in his eyes, and perhaps, Goku liked to think, a bit less bite in his words, a little more warmth in his smirk when they interacted.

But there was also something a little sad- a sort of resignation and acceptance that set Vegeta's shoulders a little lower, a little more uncertain, as if his self-realised status as second fiddle had lost him a sense of purpose now. It made Goku unhappy too, somehow. He didn’t like to think or analyse others too much - action always brought on more results than thinking- but he didn’t like to see Vegeta more imbued with self doubt and fragility than his harsh past had already given him. 

In the early days after the Buu fiasco had settled, whenever Goku allowed himself to think about it a little deeper, he worried about Vegeta’s mental state. Was Vegeta okay? Did he feel out of place, did he lose his self worth? The prince being the endearingly prickly porcupine he was, asking directly wasn’t likely to yield any useful answers and probably get him punched through a mountain, not that Goku minded that, but it would defeat the point. Goku wasn’t the smartest or most tactful person, but he was selectively smart when it came to things he was interested in. And Vegeta was definitely on that list. So he resolved to try alternative ways to approach his friend.

Despite his resolution, caught up with the pure wonders of being in the living realm again, Goku had little time or correct space to seek the answer to his question. Between Chichi’s cooking and patient reprimands; the mystery of adult Gohan, firmly a scholar yet still sharing the desire to save the world in the form of Great Saiyamen; and getting to know the miracle that was Goten, his _second son(!)_ \- all his facial expressions, cute little pout and likes and dislikes… making up for lost time… all of this kept Goku occupied. Before long days had turned to seasons, never a right time to bring up the matter. 

However, as he slowly settled into the motions and routines of daily life, Goku had found himself growing restless again, a storm lurking under his skin, craving a good fight the way humans craved connection. And who better to seek than Vegeta, who gave him exactly what he needed, the challenge he craved! It took all of Goku’s focus in every single spar to make sure that the prince couldn’t jump over him.

What Vegeta believed was a strength gap between the two saiyans was more than made up by everything the prince was: his raw power, his quick cunning, his stamina, his unique fighting style, his undeniable skill, the sheer force and ruthlessness of his strikes, the pigheaded toughness in taking a hit and getting back up, the grace in the way his lithe body and muscles moved, his magnetic eyes - Goku could really spend all day rattling off a list of all the things that made Vegeta amazing. 

Perhaps someone else might have found something strange there, but he couldn’t help it, he was just being honest- Vegeta was beautiful when he was fierce, was his equal and rival, the power gap may as well not exist. All the thrilling fights his saiyan blood craved, the challenge his body sang to find, the prince delivered, and far more, each and every time. 

_The sand clock in the corner ticked by, sound magnifying suddenly as they called an end to their spar. Chest heaving, Goku allowed his body to collapse onto the white tiles, aching back soothed by the coolness of the floor. “Well Vegeta, you sure don’t make it easy on me! " he heaved, laughing with the exhilaration only a magnificent spar with his rival could bring out. "Every time we fight, you find flaws I didn’t even know I had!”_

_“Tch.” The obsidian eyes looked away. “The same is true for me, much as I hate to admit it," he heard Vegeta mutter. Goku choose not to comment. I_ _nstead he let out a delighted laugh, gaze overhead. “Can you imagine how much stronger we’re going to get?” A little pause, a fond glance that the other missed. “I’m glad you’re here, Vegeta. I’m glad we have this.”_

_“... Whatever, Kakarot.”_

Ironically and fortunately, it was this: their spars, the unique space they had carved out with each other in their otherwise quiet lives, that had restored the set in Vegeta’s eyes and the way he held himself, more than anything else Goku could have thought to do or to say. 

In every exchange of punches, Goku somehow managed to convey without words that there was a special space for Vegeta in Goku’s life, and that it was right at his shoulder, together as equals, and wherever he was climbing, Vegeta was coming too. And if Vegeta was the one scaling the ship, Goku would be right there rigging with him. 

Vegeta seemed to pick up on this… whatever they had, as time went by. Slowly the uncertainty in his eyes and the tight set of his mouth was replaced by something a little warmer, something a little surer. His uncertainty about his place and purpose had been erased. All without the need for confusing words. 

_“Hey Vegeta,” a little fidget, “could you... teach me how to say something in Saiya-go?”_

_Goku could see that Vegeta was completely taken aback. He wished he could take a picture and frame it. He treasured every time he saw the warmer side of the other saiyan’s personality, under the prickly mask._

_The complete utter shock in the Vegeta’s eyes melted into default irritation. “...Why? You’ve never been interested before.”_

_A shrug, a rub of the neck in quiet embarrassment. “I’m just... curious, I guess? Feels silly to be part of something and not know anything about it. And hey! It’ll be cool if we can talk to each other in our own language! Like a secret code!”_

_A huff, a glare without heat. “Forget it, Kakarot, I am not starting some juvenile secret club with you. I don’t need more reason to have to talk to you any more than I do now.”_

_A pout. “Aww, but I like spending time with you!” Goku noticed Vegeta flushing, but took no further note of it. “And who knows, maybe it’ll be useful in a fight!”_

(Once, after the ‘Mistletoe Incident’ which everyone had deemed would never ever be spoken of again for as long as anyone lived and the Dragonballs existed, Vegeta had ranted to him about the Earth’ strange and idiotic customs. Goku had listened to the tirade mindlessly, not sharing the same vehemence, but agreeing that some Earthling rituals that were thought of as normal were confusing for him, and _he was raised_ on Earth. Poor Vegeta probably found some things completely perplexing. 

It had naturally segued to a rather difficult and painful conversation about their home planet and its customs. Goku had learnt that saiyans didn’t have as many words in their native tongue as any of the Earthling languages had, and that there were regional dialects but by and large words remained similar. It made sense: for saiyans who craved fighting the way humans craved connection and interaction, a fight was a conversation, a battle was connection. In that case, he and Vegeta talked a whole bunch, given how much time they spent together sparring, Goku mused.)

Beyond the subtle undercurrents of their spar though, Goku genuinely looked forward to their time together, and he knew enough of Vegeta’s tells to be confident that Vegeta did too. It became the highlight of his week, something to get excited about between the tedium of planting turnips and securing at least a small modest income for his family. He couldn’t deny: As much as he loved being with his family, knowing everyone _was safe and happy and where they should be_ , in times of peace the spars with Vegeta were the rare moments in which he felt truly alive. 

Their spars were where he was able to just take delight in movement, with no fear of losing life or pride, the familiarity and comfort of a friendly fist, the awareness that they were a match and could finish each other, yet the safety of knowing it would not come to that. It was an odd form of trust, knowing that they could let loose their innate aggression without malice, fight and break each other to make each other stronger. It was precious and fragile and Goku didn’t think he could ever go back to a time without this, without what they shared.

The result was them spending more and more time together, creating fertile ground for something new to grow, like a little bud hesitantly testing out the first whiffs of spring. Gradually Goku had gotten to know Vegeta, who under the prickly exterior had a sense of humour dryer than sandpaper, with the deadpan delivery to back it up; Vegeta who was cold and calculating and stingy with his emotions, except ironically when he needed his walls the most - that was when it all spilled out to the point where the prince literally wore his heart in his eyes. Vegeta who was smart and curious and (sometimes) considerate and actually pleasant to be with when he wasn’t actively trying to be difficult for the sake of it.

Though, Goku smiled to himself in amusement, to be frank, he enjoyed that side of the prince as well. It was really a lot of fun to tease Vegeta sometimes by playing up his own simpleness in order to see Vegeta’s exasperated, but somewhat resigned face as the prince either attempted to explain something. He was sure Vegeta was on to it too, and was humoring Goku's antics in his own way. It made Goku feel warm, and maybe a little special, that the usually short-tempered prince would allow such things from him.

“...Goku?”

Goku was so startled at Chichi’s voice ringing out of the blue that he nearly fell off the tree stump he had somehow wound up sitting on as his mind wandered. “Chichi!” Hastily, he got to his feet, trying to make it look like he had been working and was taking a break instead of daydreaming for the past half hour. “I didn’t notice you there!” Which was actually kind of weird, her ki was one of the few he could pinpoint anywhere in the world, anytime, right alongside his boys and Vegeta’s, especially since their fusion.

She looked at him strangely, an exasperated smile on her beautiful lips. “I’ve been calling you for the last ten minutes, Goku. Lunch is ready.” 

As if on cue, his stomach let out a ferocious growl, making them both jump. Goku laughed, rubbing the back of his head with one hand. “Man, I’m starving! Food sure sounds good right now,” He grinned at his wife fondly. “You’re the best, Chichi!”

She caught his arm gently before he almost flew past her into the house where he could now sniff out amazing scents that made his mouth water. “Goku,” she looked at him sternly, but her voice was patient, “you promised me that you would finish ploughing the field before lunch.” She looked at him pointedly. “Even at the most, you should have been done half an hour ago.”

Goku slumped a little in shame. “Sorry, Chi…” he mumbled. So much for a quick (and yummy) escape. “I just… got a little carried away with my thoughts, is all.” Belatedly he realised that he maybe should have said something else. Goku wasn’t exactly known for being a deep thinker, except when it came to fighting.

Chichi couldn’t help a smile at that, clearly thinking along the same lines. “Goku, the only thing you ever really think about is fighting. At least, to the point of daydreaming about it.” She looked him in the eye. “You’re getting restless again, aren’t you?”

Goku started a little guiltily. Of course Chichi would catch on quickly. She was smart, like Bulma and Gohan. Like Vegeta. He was surrounded by smart people, all of them people he held dear. 

“... Just a bit, Chichi.” An impulsive idea came to mind, it was worth trying to ask. “Once I finish lunch, maybe I can go bash Vegeta around a bit?” he asked hopefully. “Then I’ll be perfectly good to finish off the field!” 

Goku knew he didn’t technically need her permission, but he’d learnt the hard way that some things should be approached with courtesy, e.g. letting your family know where you plan to be instead of disappearing for months on end without a word and freaking them out into another form of hell. He and Vegeta were both still learning this with their respective families. Perhaps it was a saiyan thing. 

“Vegeta, hm?” Chichi looked at him for a bit. Her normally expressive black eyes were unreadable, right then. “You’ve been spending a lot of time with him.”

“Well, of course! He’s the only one who can fight on my level,” Goku said, a bit confused. Her statement seemed to hold more meaning than words, but he was never good at parsing through such things, except when it came to some very specific stubborn prickly people. With Chichi, she was usually more upfront about what she said and wanted. It was one of the things he liked about her. 

Chichi continued to look at him strangely. “... and that’s all it is, isn’t it.” Her eyes held curiosity, understanding, and something like… amusement? 

“Huh? What do you mean, Chichi?”

His wife looked like she was about to say something else, but then visibly gave up. “You won’t get it if I have to explain it to you,” she said, which sounded completely nonsensical to Goku, and he was usually the one people couldn’t understand. His expression must have screamed his incomprehension, because she looked at him and laughed a little. “Oh Goku, it’s okay, it’s not you or anyone’s fault.”

“Are… we talking about the field?” Goku asked hopelessly.

Chichi just shook her head at him. “It’s okay, Goku. I’ll pack you your lunch. Go find Vegeta and spar, if he’s not doing something else.” As Goku started to brighten, confusion easily dismissed, her tone turned stern. “Then you have to come back and make sure the fields get turned over _today_ , okay? If you can, maybe even start on the next patch.” Her hands went to her hips, every inch the warrior-princess-turned-strict-mother in her stance. Goku loved her for it. 

“I promise it’ll all get done! Thanks Chichi, you really are the best!” he cheered, spinning her around and giving her a big hug. She smiled up at him and patted his cheek.

“But not the only best.”

“Huh?” Did he mishear her? For the second time that day in the short span of their conversation, Goku felt that his wife was speaking more than she was saying.

“Never mind, Goku. We will talk about this another time. You have a spar to get to, remember,” Chichi said, as if Goku would forget. He shrugged and decided to let it drop. She’d speak to him when she wanted to. He was a simple man, with a simple approach. He preferred to deal with directness and uncomplicated things, with some exceptions. 

Like a saiyan prince with barbs a mile wide and walls so high they would suffocate all the life and light out of an unsuspecting visitor. Good that Goku was wilfully dense enough to ignore the warnings, bright enough to bring his own sunlight, and thus the perfect counter to such defensiveness.

“Okay Chichi, see you later!” He grinned, putting two fingers to his forehead. His senses extended, locking on to the bright, proud little life force that was always a soothing familiar presence in his mind, a point of reference he could place anywhere in the universe. He was looking forward to seeing that too-familiar smirk turn angry.

“Wait Goku! Your-”

-he blinked out-

“-food…” Chichi trailed off to empty air.

* * *

Of course she had known.

Of course she had noticed that there was something more than platonic that existed between the two last saiyans in the universe, something a little more than stringent rivalry or simple brotherhood. 

Perhaps it was the way they had looked at each other in the immediate wake of the Evil Buu fight*, all the way back to that time at the Lookout. Chichi had seen her husband’s relaxed stance completely brighten up and his cheerful smile turn utterly **_free,_** in a way she had not seen before as he gazed towards Vegeta. Vegeta who to her shock had looked back over his shoulder with his own little smirk, one softer than she had ever seen him. It was only a heartbeat of a moment, a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it, but it somehow felt more intimate than if she had caught them kissing.

Well, that was a rather… interesting image. Chichi coughed, feeling her cheeks heat up slightly.

She had been unsure what she had seen and suspected at the time, and even less sure how she felt about it. 

Did her husband have feelings for his rival? Was it a saiyan thing, or was it a Goku and Vegeta thing? Did either of that make it okay?  
  
What did she feel about it?

Over time, though, Chichi had come to realise that somehow, in the long seven years of Goku’s absence, something between her and Goku had changed. Maybe it wasn’t there in the first place. Somehow, she had made peace with the strange marriage she had. 

Her expectations had been all formed by human standards of marriage, fidelity, and even sexuality. Who knew what saiyans accepted as the norm of their partners? The only one who could even possibly have an inkling was Vegeta, and it seemed clear he would carry all the traditions and culture of his home planet to his third grave, something which Bulma felt was a real shame but Chichi privately thought was a blessing, given the saiyans' predisposition to violence. And from what little she understood of Vegeta’s history, having been very young when he was taken away to serve Frieza, his information might not have been all that accurate anyway, or at the very least tainted with another’s malice. 

The point was, no one knew how saiyans conventionally approached partnerships…

...and love was never conventional anyway, whatever culture or background one came from.

She could share Goku. Chichi knew he loved her and their family, and would always come back, even if with the same unreliable schedule he had. Nothing would change, except possibly his happiness might increase. Maybe even Vegeta’s, who for all the evil he had done, had become one of the good guys in her eyes (at least lately, by pure virtue of being a good father)

And she truly loved Goku and wanted him happy. She was selfish enough not to want him to leave her again, and she knew that she tied him down to her sometimes when he would really rather be roaming and searching for adventure, as his saiyan blood called him out to do. But share him? She could do that, at least with someone who could care for him and provide him with the things she couldn’t.

But first, Chichi had to make sure that her theory about this possible growing romance between them was correct. Because it was like playing with fire, except the fire was inferno in the form of two unearthly titans of the universe and their minefield of emotions. 

So in the last few months, she had caught onto and collected more little pieces of evidence, little things that confirmed her theory.

The fact that her normally socially-challenged husband somehow knew exactly what buttons to push to get Vegeta to react as he wanted, whether to comfort or to provoke. And while she didn’t know Vegeta too well, certainly not enough to call him a friend, she knew enough to guess that the proud saiyan would not have allowed himself to be played by such strings unless he secretly wanted to go along with it. 

The amount of time her husband spent thinking about fighting and inevitably Vegeta, whatever his reasonings were. Sure, it was true the prince was the only one to come close to Goku’s level, despite Chichi’s vehement insistence that Gohan was the biggest potential among them all (something which Vegeta, perhaps in a particularly amiable mood, had surprisingly agreed to one night, shocking everybody in the process.)

However, her devotion to feeding and caring for Goku when he was alive meant that Chichi _knew_ her husband. She may not understand his saiyan side: the slight wildness and hunger in his eyes when it was peaceful for too long; the way he looked at serious opponents like they were an adventure rather than a death sentence... but she _knew_ him enough to understand his cravings. To understand how he was when something grabbed his attention and held it. To understand, also, when it was some _one_. 

There were other little tells, of course. The way they gravitated towards each other whatever the occasion, but never fully crashed in, like two celestial bodies on an orbit destined to circle around each other and never truly meet in the middle. The long-postponed (and, she privately believed, eternally so) final all-out battle, now taking shape in the form of much-anticipated spars. The fact that they had fused, become one person for a supposedly permanent time, bonded to fight and live and die together as a union, which sounded like a marriage to her, honestly. 

When pressed for more information of what they retained from the fusion, both kept mum. Goku did not have much to share, but whether that came from being careless as ever with details and feelings, or using purposeful obliviousness as a shield, was hard to tell. Vegeta’s fierce blush and obvious discomfort whenever the topic was brought up all but confirmed to her that there must have been side effects to the fusion that neither of the two were spilling.

Clearly, the two emotionally-dense saiyans clearly had not realised themselves, but many of the people around them had come to notice, as time had passed by. Some of them made light of it (Chichi had an inkling of some form of betting going on around the inhabitants of Kame Island, but was too wary to pry into the details given Master Roshi’s tendency towards perversion.) Some of the others took it more seriously by considering a more active role in orchestrating the two saiyan into some form of confrontation for what they were both too blind to see.

Chichi was a romantic at heart, and enjoyed playing matchmaker - she was doing a grand job with her eldest baby boy and charming, strong, sweet, financially secure Videl, she reckoned - but even she wondered what the protocols were when trying to matchmake your husband with his past would-be-murderer-turned-rival-turned-best-friend-slash-sparring partner. Even if she turned to trusted ones for advice, well, the people around her weren’t exactly genius with emotions themselves. Gohan’s extensive book collection (what a darling little scholar he’d become, she was so very proud of him) yielded nothing even close. Asking Piccolo who was also technically Kami of the past might have been a smart move, but she was sure it would only trigger a facial spasm for the poor Namekian. And then there was her precious baby cutie Goten, whose simplicity and mannerisms reminded her of Goku’s innocence when he was younger, was too little to know anything of love just yet (as he should be, of course.)

Then there was the flip side. While she suspected that she was correct about Goku's possibly-more than platonic feelings towards Vegeta, she had initially been both worried and angry that it was unrequited. With Vegeta’s past loud proclamations to surpass and _kill her husband_ , of course she had been fiercely protective. Who cared if the guy was a super saiyan prince who could squish her like she could squish a bug with even less effort, she would _still_ beat him over the head with a frying pan if he dared make real on his threat to her Goku- or worse, hurt his heart! 

But Chichi had relaxed as she saw that over time, Vegeta’s harshness and hostility towards her husband had faded to the point that Goku was really one of the rare ones he would willingly spend time with, outside his immediate family. Something had changed. Even Chichi knew her husband could be a bit much sometimes, with his careless invasion of personal space, his selective obliviousness and his cheerful disregard of social norms (well, given that Vegeta was just as bad in the latter, in hindsight, the two socially incompetent saiyans made the perfect pair.)

But Vegeta seemed to take it all without much… well, with a lot of complaint and grumbling, but no real threat or heat behind it. Chichi knew enough to know that Vegeta was the kind of person who if he truly wanted to leave Goku on his own, he would have. And in time, she’s seen or heard little snippets that added to her curiosity about the two: the way Vegeta was always watching her husband’s back and coming to his aid during their big battles, whatever excuse he was using that particular time; the apathy and depression he had fallen into when Goku remained dead those long seven years; the way he had protected her Goku when they were trying to buy time for the Spirit Bomb to build against Evil Buu; the way he had caught Goku to prevent him from freefalling straight through the ship they were on, holding him almost tenderly in the fight against Beerus…

She could possibly think of more times the other saiyan was sweet on her husband if pressed, but if she was to be pragmatic and rational like her smart Gohan sounded when he talked about his beloved ‘scientific method’, she would have to admit that most of her thoughts about the possibility of the two saiyans beings sweet on each other were just that, assumptions without substance. Many of her observations were also one-sided, more of Goku’s reactions towards and with Vegeta, as she obviously never spent time with Vegeta alone except when her husband was there. Bulma handled that side of information…

...And they were due a sharing session soon. Smiling almost evilly for such a proper and dignified lady, Chichi picked up the phone.

*the pic at the top is the secret smile moment Chi chi referred to. Look at how happy these two look, Goku seems positively glowing while I've never seen Vegeta look that relaxed XD *fans self*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. In this chapter, I was trying to capture the beginnings of infatuation/falling in love, constantly thinking about your special one, wanting to spend all your time doing absolutely nothing with them, in denial that your thoughts are always on them, etc. I hope I managed to express it lovingly through Goku's obliviousness, rather than making him out of character or biasedly obsessed with Vegeta. Don't worry, the pining is mutual... and it will be very very slow burn, so slow it's glacial, strap in for the ride!
> 
> 2\. Chichi: frankly speaking, I didn't like her very much in canon Z. Super made her marginally better, but she still ends up mostly being used as a rather simple harpy for comic relief. She wasn't supposed to get a whole chapter to herself, but I'm trying to be fair because she deserves it, what she is at heart is a mother and wife who cares very deeply for her family, whatever her methods may be. I needed her approval (haha!) early on for the things I'm planning next, so out here she goes and well, I feel that how I wrote her makes it hard for anyone to tell that I don't particularly like her character! Perhaps this is how Toriyama feels writing Vegeta who he claims not to like very much, haha. I tried to capture her devotion to being a good wife, her adoration for her boys, her slightly materialistic side, and her dignity as a mother. I hope I did her justic. It's a test for me as a writer and a human being too, putting myself in the shoes of someone I don't care for very much, and learning to understand their view. My initial plan was to make this a very Goku-Vegeta centric fic, damn all the other characters, but it morphed into something bigger and deeper and I feel, more realistic, because humans aren't like saiyans- we can't live in isolation XD You will be seeing almost every other character come into play! I can't wait to play with their voices.  
> This fic is a test for me as a writer too, I tend to write introspective style, with less dialogue and more musing. I am trying actively to balance the two here.
> 
> PS I credit the writers Sevargs, Vakaara, Guiltless Engineerd and Resacon for giving me a different interpretation on Chi-chi (and Bulma's) characters, and how the wives could be accepting of their husbands' feelings without being sidelined or divorced as many fics tend to make. I encourage you to give them a read! Also add thewingedlady and Capsule Crisis, who with the other four authors above gave me a realistic view of how the friendship between Goku and Vegeta could develop into something more, without straying from canon.
> 
> 3\. would love it if you left a review? Tell me something you liked, something you thought could have been done better, or just something you really related to in navigating the emotional miasma that is life? Or even just scream your love for our two idiots, I'll squeal back. I have so much love for these characters, sometimes they feel more alive and dear to me than some real life people. Thinking of them has got me through some tough times.
> 
> Lastly, I'm happy to connect on Instagram should you want to yap at another DBS fan, just ping me below :) StardustSteel on Insta and tumblr.
> 
> Next chapter is more action-based: Goku unwittingly puts himself in harm's way to save Vegeta, and Vegeta gets really angry about it.


	2. Kakarot can go f**king die (no, please don't)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Goku unwittingly puts himself in harm's way to save Vegeta, and the prince gets really angry about it. Vegeta realises he cared for this idiot and goes into crisis mode. Bulma steps in to help, but possibly makes matters worse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. In my mind this is somewhere around the Beerus saga, because it preludes their unspoken agreement in the series to treat eachother as equals and not coddle each other (take turns in fights, rather than jumping in to help when the other is getting plowed, etc.) Their relationship is a strange one, taking turns to fight, watching eachother get ebay up and being okay with it so long as it’s not to an inch of their lives, stepping in and tag teaming only when no other option is available. I wanted to explore why that was okay, for two people who supposedly cared for each other in actions if not words.  
> 2\. The fight scene is inspired by episode 98 of DBS when Vegeta steps in to help Goku against Universe 9. It was so much fun trying to parse through their dialogue and its possible hidden meanings!  
> 3\. Vegeta refers to Goku as Kakarot in his head because you don’t refer to someone by different names in their head vs in real life. He also thinks of Kakarot using a lot of curse words in this chapter because he’s really, really angry, not because he (or I) hate the naive lovable idiot. I hope the loving hate comes across clearly in this chapter.  
> reviews are always appreciated, a minute to tell me something you liked, something you didn't like, a quote that struck you..? it makes my sad little heart a little happier. thank you <3

-Realisation-

“Kakarot, on your left!”

Goku responded on instinct, ramming the three insect-humanoid-looking things that had tried to loop off his head straight into the border of the barrier they were encased in. The walls ominously crackled for a bit, incinerating them - Goku smelt burnt flesh and something almost mechanical- but ultimately held on strong. He shot Vegeta a quick look of thanks as he swiftly moved away from the line of fire.

They were on another battlefield, another fight or die situation, this time in the form of a random alien invasion upon Earth. In the quick pre-assessment of the threat Krillin had feelingly sighed something aloud on how life-and-death matters had become a common occurrence for them now, but to be honest Goku didn’t really mind. More fights meant he had a chance to get stronger. It was kinda like training! 

Except... this one wasn’t. A ki dampener shield had sprung out of nowhere as the Z fighters were bashing away, caging them all in a small circumference full of deadly humanoid insect alien things who seemed to want nothing to do with peace or talking, and everything to do with stabbing them with poisonous daggers. The existence of the ki dampener had significantly raised the stakes and put them all in a new kind of danger.

The sudden feel of his power draining away alongside the constant background hum of the ki of millions of people around the world coming to a sudden stop had been both alarming and grating on Goku’s senses, and was the first clue that the threat was more serious than it seemed. It had quickly been established that without ki, the fighters’ defenses were much lowered, specifically putting the Earthling warriors into more significant danger. 

Even the saiyans with their durable, tougher bodies would be in trouble if they were careless. It was possible Piccolo wouldn’t be able to regenerate, either, but the Namekian stayed in the fight. Gohan, his smart tactical son had quickly indicated to Krillin, Yamcha and the others to try to get out of the heat of the battle closer to the periphery and focus on trying to figure out how to break the ki dampener while the others took the brunt of the fighting. 

It was when Yamcha went down with a yelp and a huge burn across his shoulder that they realised the ki dampener proved to be a weapon on its own, incinerating anything that came too close.

Fallen defenses due to Ki being dampened, touch-and-get torched barriers caging them in, poisonous insect warriors with daggers and tough shells.. Goku couldn’t remember the last time the stakes had been so high. He knew he should technically be afraid, or at least a little worried? But he couldn’t help that he was actually finding this fun. They were being forced to fight differently, be smarter about their strikes.

That didn’t mean he wanted to get hit though. Goku seized the arm of another insect thingy even as he spotted a familiar flame of hair in the periphery of his vision. He used the fighter’s own trajectory to throw it into the shield. These things were _tough,_ their carapace was almost invulnerable to brute force. He and Vegeta had quickly learnt that using the barrier to incinerate them was the easiest way to conserve energy and ensure the poison numbers dwindled down.

Vegeta came to a stop next to him as they both paused from their constant river of motion across the battlefield. The prince’s tone was harsh, his dark eyes assessing. “Kakarot, honestly. Are you so reliant on your ki that without it these inferior specimens get to best you?” The prince barked. “Honestly, you’re supposed to be my rival, don’t embarrass me.”

Goku grinned brightly. That was as close to an ‘are you okay’ as Vegeta would get. “Nah! It would have been a nasty hit though, thanks for warning me Vegeta!”

“Guard up, idiot,” Vegeta scowled at him a little more fiercely than usual. Too used to that expression at this point, Goku found it more endearing than anything, though he should never tell Vegeta that at risk of getting hammered. “We’ve never fought like this, we don’t know what we’re dealing with here.”

Goku opened his mouth to reply, but at that precise moment a tingling feeling overcame him. There was something wrong, a change in the composition of the air around them, something he couldn’t put his finger on.

A continuous whistling reverberated around the field, and already Goku was moving, lunging at Vegeta before he fully registered what was happening. Vegeta cried out in surprise and half-anger as he was knocked flat on his back with Goku on top of him. In other circumstances Goku might have paused to think twice about their positions, but in this moment he only moved his arms to either side of the smaller frame of the prince to trap him. 

He had no more time to think of the prince’s discomfort or his rage at how this looked as lethal, sharp daggers began to rain upon them both. Vegeta’s dark eyes blew wide in shock as Goku gritted his teeth and used his larger body to shield the prince’s smaller frame, fully exposing his back to what he now realised was an onslaught of poison daggers. Hundreds of sharp and jagged edges assaulted his entire posterior chain and drove deep into his skin, each one more agonizing than the next.

Goku finally cried out as several jagged edges found their mark on the still-healing wounds from the earlier portion of their fight, the pain becoming piercingly unbearable and spreading to his very bones. He recognised the stabbing throb- it was likely that these weapons were poisoned. Had their ki not been blocked it would be ridiculously easy to raise a shield and brush the whole thing away, but as things stood all he could do was bear the onslaught.

Vaguely he was aware that under him Vegeta was shaking, trying very hard to break free and yelling at him to get the hell off. But Knowing the smaller saiyan was going to be absolutely incensed at him later but not particularly caring right then, Goku did not move an inch. Initially his inertia was from fierce protectiveness (- _did Vegeta think he was the only stubborn one?)_ and eventually it was from pure agony. 

What in reality was in minutes felt like hours. The sensation of continuously being stabbed began to numb -had it stopped raining daggers? Goku’s thoughts became fractured and came like slipped pieces.

_-I hope Krillin and the others manage to break us out-_

- _arghhh-_

_-do we have any more senzu beans?...-_

_-if only we could use ki this would be nothing-_

_-oh, Vegeta’s going to hate me sooooo much for this -_

He could no longer tell pain from its lack and duly registered that this should have probably alarmed him. His vision began to darken just as his body was carefully shifted to lay on one side, all limbs boneless and bleeding, a dead weight. 

The last thing Goku was aware of as his vision began to fade out was Vegeta looking down at him and saying something, his eyes both furious and... afraid? 

And Goku was conscious of the strange mixed sensations of relief and guilt and unease that washed over him: relief that Vegeta was okay and mostly whole, and guilt because he already knew the prince’s pride wouldn’t take well to being protected. Unease that he put that fear in Vegeta’s proud, dearly beloved face.

_Don’t you dare close your eyes, you bastard, don’t you fucking dare!_

Oh, he was in sooo much trouble. Goku’s lips moved, trying for a weak smile, but he had no energy to vocalise the sound. _So...rry…V..._

 _Don’t fucking apologise to me, idiot, just stay awake!_ Vegeta’s tone became almost ...pleading? _Dammit,_ _Stay awake!_

But the darkness rose to claim him, and Goku rather welcomed its peaceful embrace.

* * *

_(Several weeks later)_

“Vegeta.” Bulma’s voice was irritated and heavy with disappointment. Her cerulean eyes angrily tracked him from the elevated screen of the gravity chamber. “Come on, you can’t be like this forever.”

Vegeta scowled and rolled his eyes. He elected to continue training and ignore her, knowing it would drive her up the wall but uncaring. Forever was indeed a long time, but he was as stubborn as forever was long. He was pretty sure he could win that contest.

It had been several weeks since the ki dampening incident. Several weeks since he’d dragged a thrice accursed fucking poisoned _third class idiot bleeding his back all over the fucking battlefield,_ all the way over to Dende who been summoned to the scene because they were out of Senzu. Several week since he’d been terrified in a completely different way to previous nightmare situations, unsure of how to carry the damaged form in a way that caused least further damage and realised it didn’t fucking matter anyway, because there was not much damage left to be done. 

It was fortunate that Kakarot had passed out or the dumbass would have probably been in further agony, and Vegeta hated, hated, _hated_ himself for caring, for even _thinking_ about such a thing. Damn that bastard for making him soft. Damn Bulma too for doing the same. Damn them all, he should have run like hell from this stupid mudball of a planet year and years ago at the first sign of its madness and never looked back.

As he continued to train, his mind wandered. Vegeta had never found the slight size difference between himself and Kakarot to be anything of a disadvantage, not in daily interaction and most certainly not in their spars, but in that battle it had mattered. Right from the utter fucking idiot trapping Vegeta under him to shield him -Vegeta snarled at the memory as he threw out a punch, his fury roaring to a peak- to the prince’s attempt to carry and drag him where he could be healed, his smaller frame had proved to be a hindrance. 

In hindsight it might have been easier if someone larger than Kakarot, like the Namek or Kakarot’s first-born had carried the dumbass, but Vegeta had been too wild with urgency and nearly blind with fury to think straight, and he wouldn’t have trusted anyone else to get the job done at that point. Plus he was far faster than the lot of them put together anyway, with the possible exception of Gohan. Speed had indeed been the key differentiator to avert a potential tragedy, as Dende had only in the nick of time healed the wounds and more crucially drained the poison from Kakarot’s body. Ten extra minutes and Kakarot’s wife would have become a widow for the third time.

Had their ki been untampered with, the stupidly strong idiot would all have been able to laugh the substance and wounds off and kept walking. But with their very _life force_ dampened, the bleeding and the poison came ridiculously close to finishing off Kakarot. Had Dende not been onsite when the barrier broke, Kakarot would have...

He would have…

Vegeta squeezed his eyes shut at the sudden fierce flare of emotion, coming to a pause in his kicking motion. Head bowed, he was aware of Bulma falling silent in surprise - up until that point she had continued yapping at him from the screen even as he continued to ignore her, persistent as ever in not letting him get away with his bullshit. Insufferable little fire of a woman, it was one of the things he loved about her, even if most of the time he wanted to strangle her for it.

His defect to being Majin , while eternally a source of shame and guilt now, had both been a curse and a blessing for their relationship. He and Bulma no longer saw each other with the same romantic or sexually charged eye, but oddly enough, the bond between them was stronger than ever. Vegeta had always known that she truly cared for him (though he could never get why), and it was easier now for him to admit it was mutual. He would die for her. He already did.   
  
For Trunks too. For... Kakarot.   
  
Damn him. 

“Vegeta?” Her voice was suddenly much softer- his uncharacteristic slump of defeat and stillness must have alarmed her for her to react like that. “Come on, talk to me a little, get it off your chest.”

“I’m fine, woman.”

She snorted, the sound picking up clearly through the speakers and somehow amplified in its derision. “No you aren’t, Vegeta, not about this.” Of course she knew. “I get that you don’t want to talk to Goku right now, but you can’t hide from him forever.”

Vegeta growled. “I’m not hiding from anything, woman, least of all him.”

“Sureeee, Vegeta,” and he knew without looking that she was rolling her beautiful eyes, “tell me that again when you believe your own bullshit. Goku’s been asking for you, and you know as well as I do that he’s not going to stop. This problem isn’t going to solve itself-” 

In what he knew was an asshole move but not wanting to hear any more, Vegeta switched off the screen console knowing that would have her screaming at him later. He swiftly opened one of the massive windows of the gravity chamber and flew out of it, not having a particular destination in mind, just wanting to get the _hell_ away. Flying aimlessly was his thinking time, the way some Earthlings seemed to use running as a way to process information.

 _This problem isn’t going to solve itself_ , Bulma’s words echoed at him.

Problem, indeed. Kakarot was the problem. He had alway been the problem, right from the beginning, with a capital P, no plurals needed. Troublesome when he was dead for seven years and troublesome when he wasn’t. The literal bane of Vegeta’s existence. 

It was alarming to realise how terrified Vegeta had been for the dumb buffoon bleeding out in his hands. _Don’t die please don’t die please not again…_ had been a litany in his mind, as he’d waited the absolute aeons it had taken for the barrier to blow up due to what he later learnt was Bulma and the Earthlings’ teamwork, working from the outside and within respectively.

Despite all the things he’d seen and been through from the cosmic joke that was his childhood and life, Vegeta had never felt more vulnerable and helpless than he’d been in those moments. Out in the open smack in the middle of the battlefield, unable to seek a more advantageous spot by default of not wanting to abandon the bleeding dying dumbass beside him, Vegeta had resorted to more primal methods of fighting: simply crushing the insects with pieces he had torn off their own carapace and smashing them into each other. It was brutal, it lacked finesse, and he would have been ashamed -with his brilliant tactical mind he should have come up with something better than that. 

But between never straying far from Kakarot’s prone form and periodically checking in half- terror that the idiots’ heartbeat hadn’t already slowed to a standstill, because _they couldn’t fucking sense ki,_ he’d been a little too occupied to come up with a battle plan. Vegeta would like the records to show this.

Once the barrier had finally blown, which he’d later learnt had taken only slightly under an hour but felt like ages when Kakarot’s life was inching away in precious seconds - he’d immediately raced to Dende and demanded the Kami and healer to hurry the fuck up or Vegeta would incinerate anything and everything and cremate the whole planet where they stood. 

In the end, after all the damage and adrenaline and _don’t die you bastard don’t you fucking die stay the fuck ALIVE_ , it was almost anticlimactic how Kakarot had recovered, rolled right over on his back and sat straight up with that stupid annoying grin of his, to the relief of his silly little friends. 

Upon seeing the dumbass idiotic smile tinged with slight hesitation directed his way, something tight in Vegeta’s chest had relaxed, though he refused to acknowledge it, and his hostility and fury had erupted tenfold. Kakarot had learnt nothing. Death was cheap in this planet of theirs, and the threat of it was more a game than a reality. Vegeta had stayed only a moment longer to ensure that there was no catch - he didn’t trust Kakarot not to roll over dead right after being healed, just to spite him, Kakarot’s whole existence was basically to spite him - and then the prince had blasted off in the other direction, putting as much of a distance between himself and the idiot as possible while still being on Earth.

And he’d refused to see or even entertain the company of said idiot since.

For the first week Kakarot had stayed away, possibly recuperating from any remnant side effect of poison, possibly just respecting Vegeta’s space (-ha, was that a thought, Kakarot didn’t have the presence of mind to respect anything, certainly not Vegeta’s privacy.) Possibly the younger saiyan who was more perceptive that he let on of his idiotic front knew enough about Vegeta’s pride over the years to understand that the prince would be angry with his stupid protective actions on the field. 

But Kakarot was always on the receiving end of Vegeta’s anger, which crested and troughed like a tidal wave, and meant it always dissipated in time, or so he took for granted. Within the second week the idiot had cheerfully popped up asking for a spar, only to receive zero words and a slammed door in his face.

Oh, Vegeta was angry, of course. More fucking furious than he’d ever been in his two lifetimes, and that was saying something. He’d been completely livid that he had been shielded by the Great Savior Kakarot like some helpless little damsel in distress. He was the last prince of a proud warrior race, dammit, he was Kakarot’s greatest and most constant contender, he didn’t need protection and saving! His pride was still recovering from that damage, as if it needed to take further hits in the first place. Anger and disgust was expected, was nothing new, was familiar like his gloves.

But the terror and near paralysing fear he felt when he thought Kakarot would die on him again, now _that_ was new. And shook him to his core.

He’d never had to worry for Kakarot’s life before. The time before the Cell fight was a confusing mix of wanting to kill the man himself while making sure he didn’t perish at another’s hands in the meantime, and trying to catch up to him becoming an ascended super saiyan. When someone was stronger than you in power you don’t really think of the possibility of them dying first. 

Afterwards, when Kakarot did actually die and stayed dead, there was no space to register any feelings - Vegeta’s memories of that time were a time sink and black hole, a fog only gradually lifted by the presence and persistence of Bulma and the tiny growing form of Trunks.

Even as his animosity towards the other saiyan slowly morphed into grudging respect, they had both been too preoccupied with trying to stay the fuck alive - if one of them died the other was likely to be sent in the same direction shortly, and so was doomed alongside the whole universe. There was no fear, no earth-shaking realisations, no unearthing of feeling Vegeta would have rather kept hidden and untouched to the back of his mind.

No, this latest crisis was the first time they had had a proper threat that wasn’t both of them and everyone else dying simultaneously. Kakarot’s very real death scare that made it impossible for Vegeta to ignore that revoltingly, he had come to genuinely care for the naive bubbling fool.

That was what he was actually upset about, if Vegeta was honest to himself (he was magnificent at bullshitting others and especially himself, but sometimes even he couldn’t run from his thoughts.) Yes, his pride had been wounded, and he wanted to bash Kakarot’s stupid face in for even daring to protect him like that, for even having the instinct to try. He was not a child, they were fully grown saiyan warriors, they fought their own battles! 

But the protectiveness was characteristic of Kakarot’s naive, revoltingly compassionate ways. It wasn’t anything different to what he could expect from the other man. Vegeta could forgive it, in time, if he ever wanted to speak with Kakarot again.

(Which he didn’t, really, but it actually was getting rather tedious without their spars, and he had to admit he sometimes missed scoffing and ridiculing the idiot’s familiar little mannerisms...) Vegeta willingly discarded where his thoughts just traipsed to. No, he was not opening that box today.

No, it wasn’t because of his pride that he was avoiding Kakarot, wounded though it was. It was the realisation that Vegeta could, and _actually did_ , care for the younger saiyan enough that upset him. Somewhere in between dying as a Majin and being resurrected post-Buu, he’d come to accept his feelings and care for his little family. What he hadn’t realised and been prepared to accept was that that care apparently had expanded to include Kakarot, too, somewhere over the years.

How’d he end up in this situation, caring enough that he wasn’t ready to let the simple idiot die and say an eternal goodbye just yet? 

(Vegeta had never been religious, but it was hard to deny the afterlife when you’ve literally been through hell and the back of it. Even his self denial had its limits.)

Death was cheap in the Z fighters’ world, because they were good people. They would just be reincarnated and enjoy life in heaven. 

Not so for villains and sinners like Vegeta himself. When Kakarot next died, he would be gone somewhere Vegeta couldn’t reach anymore. The fact was that Kakarot was destined for a happy afterlife, alongside Bulma and his friends and family and other goody two shoes people, while Vegeta was doomed to being washed away into oblivion. When they next parted, it would be true separation.

He had been scared to lose Kakarot. Was scared that he cared so strongly. He didn’t want to see the idiot anymore.

 _Let me get this straight,_ said a gratingly sensible inner voice that sounded a whole lot like Bulma’s. _You’re mad at him for almost dying and unhappy about almost losing him forever, so now that he’s alive and kicking, you never want to see him again and treat him like he's already dead? Vegeta, don't you think that’s a little counterproductive?_

 _Shut up,_ he told the voice _, you’re not even real, you’ve no right to sound so logical._

_Maybe you’re the illogical one, Vegeta. You’re so difficult sometimes, honestly._

That Vegeta genuinely felt something for the idiot, and wanted him alive, not because of the possibility of Bulma being upset, not because of just needing his existence to get stronger and have something to aspire towards, was scary. 

It was a problematic revelation, Vegeta couldn’t process it. Didn’t want to. And what did the prince do with emotions he couldn’t process? He blamed Kakarot on it, of course.

Damn you, Kakarot, he thought as he descended from flight into a random clearing. Curse the day we ever met. Life was simpler before.

Vegeta remembered how it had felt to have the other’s body around his own smaller frame, shielding him from harm. It was completely unnecessary. He didn’t need it, he didn’t want it, certainly didn’t ask for it. But it had happened. He had to get stronger, had to train more intensely. He couldn’t allow that to happen again.

Ironically, once again, Kakarot was his indirect motivation to get stronger. He could never escape, could he?

His thoughts were interrupted in the form of a stupidly familiar ‘pop!’ that set his heart racing and signalled the arrival of the very person who took up the biggest space in his thoughts, also currently the very last man he wanted to see in this universe and any universe and timeline, Frieza included. Kakarot’s ki, bright and comforting and whole and alive, assaulted his senses like sharp nails on fragile still healing skin. Vegeta’s fury resurfaced and his face immediately settled into an unholy glare.

\-------------------

Goku looked into Vegeta’s very angry eyes and very valiantly resisted the urge to either hit him or hug him, having not been allowed to see it for so long. He really couldn’t explain how he withstood seven dead years before, not interacting with Vegeta at all, except for that they weren’t too close then, and there was Vegeta’s planning-to-kill-you-so-no-one-else-can thing. Now even several weeks felt like a long time to not see Vegeta and not push his buttons, when he was right there within bashing reach of the same plane of existence.

“Hey Vegeta!”

The prince looked at him coldly and turned his face away, not saying a word. Goku was immediately sheepish. Right, so maybe he wasn’t yet forgiven for the whole protecting him from the dagger assault incident. He knew it would have been an issue, was ready to apologise for it. “ Aw, come on, at least look at me? I know you probably hate me right now...” 

Vegeta scoffed at him. “To hate you means I think about you, and I don’t even, Kakarot, so don’t flatter yourself.” 

Hm. Goku didn’t think that was true when Vegeta had spent weeks quite literally avoiding him, (how can you not think of someone you were actively avoiding?) but he’d let older saiyan get away with that one. “Okay!” Goku said cheerfully. He was happy that Vegeta was still talking to him, unlike the last couple of times he’d tried to Instant Transmit into the prince’s space and gotten something slammed into his face or limbs for it. “Are you up for a spar?”

“Fuck off, Kakarot.”

Goku blinked at the jump straight into unexpected hostility. The negative aura Vegeta radiated reminded him of the time before Evil Buu when Vegeta had given in to Majin to escape his soft heart.

Goku didn’t like being on the receiving end of this hostility again, it felt wrong, nastier than the familiarly endearing grumpiness of his Vegeta. 

“Vegeta, come on,” he whined, “are you still angry with me about,” he floundered, trying to find a better word that would set off the prince less, then giving up, “protecting you from the dagger thing?”

Vegeta finally met Goku’s eyes full on, his eyes flashing. Finally! “Of course I’m angry, you dolt!” he snapped. “Did you think me so weak that I couldn’t protect my own damn self?”

“It’s not like that…” Goku said unhappily. Why were words so hard for him? “I wasn’t thinking, Vegeta, I just moved-”

“No surprises there Kakarot, you never think before you do anything, and therein lies the problem.”

“But Vegeta, it’s not like any of us ended up dead, I knew it wasn’t going to hurt me permanently-”

“And did you know this for a fact, Kakarot? You _knew_ that Dende would magically arrive to heal you and the barrier would break just at the right time, is that so?”

Goku pouted sullenly, Vegeta had a point, but he wasn’t going to give in that easily. “Well no, but I couldn't just stand and watch you be in danger-”

Vegeta scoffed. "Quite aside from the fact that _I don't need fucking need your protection_ , you just literally argued that it 'wouldn't have hurt permanently'," he sneered. "So which is it Kakarot, real danger or not real danger? You can't have it both ways."

Goku flailed a bit. "Uhm, I-"

“-SAVE IT, dumbass. I’m not in the mood to listen to you whine right now.”

“You’re never in the mood to listen to me whine ever, though…”

“Good, something you finally got correct about me. Now act accordingly and go the fuck away.”

Goku frowned, a bit hurt. This was going nowhere. All his feelings of the past few weeks, knowing the source of Vegeta’s anger but unable to understand it and confusion at being cold-shouldered and ignored, were bubbling to the surface, and as always he drew on the heat of them.

“Okay,” Goku’s voice was uncharacteristically lowered and unhappy, surprising the other saiyan with his sudden deference. “For how long?”

“What?”

“How long will it take until you're a little less mad at me? And when can we talk and spar again?”

Vegeta had looked taken aback at the younger saiyan’s sudden subdued tone, but had quickly recovered. “...Fuck off, Kakarot,” was the supremely unhelpful reply.

“I miss you,” Goku insisted at the useless answer, and something funny happened to Vegeta’s face. Huh. He had gotten good at reading Vegeta’s tells over the years, but he couldn’t read this. “I miss our spars. No one can fight me on the same level as you do. I want to go back to that, Vegeta.” 

Goku knew his voice had turned desperate, but he didn't really care. With Vegeta who was used to a lifetime of subterfuge and double meanings, he had found it best to brick it and be straight up honest about what he felt and wanted, so the prince could not doubt his sincerity or twist it to something else in his suspicious mind. 

“What are you even babbling on about, Kakarot.”

“Come on, _please please_ tell me how I can fix this so we can go back to before?” Vegeta heaved a sigh, and Goku’s heart ached at the familiar gesture of exasperation. Could it be that he was finally breaking,? “How can I make you less mad at me?”

“...Stop annoying me and doing things I don’t want you to do.”

Goku’s brow furrowed. “But… wouldn’t you hate that?” He asked, honestly baffled. “If I followed what you said all the time”, not that Goku thought he could, or seriously would, he was too much his own person for that, “you’d hate it. You like it when you have a challenge, right?”

Apparently that was the limit of Vegeta’s patience for him. “Kakarot, you’re being ridiculous. This is wasting my time. _Get out of my way_. ”

“Make me,” Goku challenged him, knowing it was probably the wrong thing to say if and when his goal was trying to appease Vegeta, not really caring. Maybe it would lead to a physical fight, then everything would be okay again between them! “Unless you think you can’t, in that case I’ll just step out of your way,” he taunted. Oh, how he’d miss this familiar dance, taunting and reassuring each other's worth in equal measure.

Vegeta glared at him even more furiously, his ki sharply spiking, and for a moment there Goku thought he’d had him. But then Vegeta’s gaze suddenly turned cool, and his eyes even colder. “Good try, Kakarot. Almost smart for you.” Goku’s heart plummeted as the prince turned his body slightly in the other direction. “ _Do not_ follow me. You’ll only make me angrier, and you won’t get anywhere.”

“Vegeta-!”

And off the proud profile blasted away. Goku let out a childishly frustrated noise, startling a little critter that had come out to observe the two sometime ago. What was Vegeta’s problem?! He’d already apologised, it wasn’t like he could reverse time!

Of course he could just Instant Transmit again to pop up in front of the prince, chase him anywhere he wanted to the ends of the Earth and even to another galaxy, but it would achieve nothing. Goku was pretty sure Vegeta was being difficult just for the sake of it at this point. 

The manner in which the prince left forcibly reminded Goku of the time on Namek at the very start of their tenuous alliance when Vegeta had done much the same, leaving him to face Ginyu on his own. At least they’d both come a long way since then, personally and friendship-wise.

Unbidden, his exasperation was touched by a sudden fondness. They’d really seen the back of hell and through it together. Perhaps a lesser person would have given up already, but Goku was stubborn, and uncaring of standard social norms. He _missed_ Vegeta. He missed the thrill and familiarity of their spars, missed the quiet comfort of relaxing post-spar with someone he trusted. He was not going to just let this go.

 _At least he’s talking to me again,_ he smiled happily. Son Goku was the kind of person who saw the rain as an opportunity for a shower and lightning as convenient natural lighting. Royal prickly porcupine princes were endearing and worth the little bits of pain it took to get them close, in his eyes, and Vegeta certainly was worth the trouble.

He was going to make this right.

fear, artist unknown

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I said that updates will be weekly or fortnightly, but I'm going through a real rough time at the moment. Because this is ao3 and I'm confident no one will find me, I can share that I've daily considered ending it all. Literally holding on for the hope that something better will come in time if just keep breathing, and writing this gives me a purpose-this fic deserves to be finished, these two deserve to find complete love. Someone should hear this story.   
> So I usually try to write to delight people, but this time, I'm writing for these boys I love so much, people who sometimes feel more real and dear to me than the real world, and I'm writing for the me who might one day look back and be glad she didn't end her sorry, apathetic little existence.
> 
> Thank you in advance for your time in reading :)


	3. the brilliant Bulma Briefs bestows her blessings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bulma had suspected for a while about the possibility of something more than platonic between the two (all the lingering gazes, the longing looks, little awkward touches, lips quirking in amusement over some secret inside joke…) But at that moment, when Vegeta came back cursing Goku’s name more vehemently than he usually did, muttering something about idiots and saviour complexes, eyes wild with pained fury, both protectively guarding the injured saiyan and wanting to strangle him; all the pieces had come together, and she knew.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lots of BV nuances, alongside GV. I've made it clear that I'm trying to stick close to canon, and while I'm trying to be as realistic as possible with the emotions and conflict that each character goes through as a wife, saiyan, son etc, there will be no* pairing hate. I'm a bit nervous about this chapter, not sure if the dialogue flows or is annoying. *soft penguin that is me goes to hide in nervousness*
> 
> In this chapter in particular I am trying to express through Vegeta's acceptance of Bulma touching him, the non-verbal communication, the way he listens to her in his own dysfunctional way etc that whatever is to develop between Goku and Vegeta, he and Bulma will always care for and have a strong affection and respect for each other, just as Goku and Chichi do. I hope Bulma's thought flow also conveys how much she loves Vegeta and wants to strangle him in equal measure, as we do to the people we love.

-Hot and cold-

He was brooding again. 

She knew that look on his face. The restless buzz he got when he hadn’t gotten to punt a certain saiyan through a mountainside for longer than a week, the dark little cloud of a funk that Bulma had come to dub as 'Kakarot withdrawal' issues. This time, though, it was entirely Vegeta’s own fault. For once, death and/or Goku’s tendency towards adventure were not to blame.

It had been almost 3 months since he'd avoided the younger, confused saiyan since their last battle; months since she’d watched an utterly distraught, wild-eyed Vegeta drag the larger, damaged form of Goku towards her and Dende’s direction, snarling threats anyone and everyone who came into his path and blatantly refusing to be treated himself until the younger saiyan had been seen to. Since then, he’d been avoiding Goku like her oldest friend avoided needles. Vegeta didn’t seem to care that this was driving the other man crazy. Goku had been like a lost puppy ever since, constantly materialising out of thin air, looking for Vegeta, asking after Vegeta, asking her for help on how to appease Vegeta... and no matter how much he taunted or pleaded the prince wouldn’t give him the time of day.

It would be one thing if the only person being affected was Goku, but Bulma could see that her stubborn asshole of a husband was also slightly off and feeling the strain from missing the spars and challenge only Goku could fulfill, despite the constant unforgiving slaughter of the amazing training bots she’d created for him. They’d both gotten used to each other's company, and was affected by its absence.

Bulma had suspected for a while about the possibility of something more than platonic between the two (all the lingering gazes, the longing looks, little awkward touches, lips quirking in amusement over some secret inside joke…) But at that moment, when Vegeta came back cursing Goku’s name more vehemently than he usually did, muttering something about idiots and saviour complexes, eyes wild with pained fury, both protectively guarding the injured saiyan and wanting to grind him into powderdust; all the pieces had come together, and she _knew._

However, that particular topic was not for her to approach today. Bulma was a genius the universe had blessed with both beauty and brains, the whole package who in turn was a blessing to the universe. She knew starting too fast, too far into the schematics meant the contraption tended to blow up in her face. Today, her goal was simply to get Vegeta talking to her oldest friend again, preferably with both words and fists.

“Vegeta, you know that I know, right?”

“The hell are you on about, woman.” Vegeta didn’t even spare her a glance as he contemplated the mug in his gloved hands.

Despite her irritation at his combative tone, Bulma felt a little fondness at the sight of him sipping on the coffee, mind clearly elsewhere. Vegeta rarely showed interest in anything outside of fighting, but he’d taken a liking to caffeine, proclaiming it to be one of the very short list of redeeming things about Earth. “I know what’s going on.”

“Well, that makes one of us.”

She came to stand beside him, amused in spite of herself. Trunks was constantly getting into trouble for mouthing off to his tutors, but it was a small wonder given his parents’ combination of wit. “Really, are we really going to play this game, Vegeta? Because every time we have, you’ve lost.” Leaning across him, she swiped the mug from his hands and took a large sip.

“Woman, I really do have no idea what you’re on about.” Vegeta narrowed his gaze at the direction of the stolen coffee mug with a glare that was almost a pout. He’d allowed her to take it, of course, there was no way she could match his reflexes otherwise. 

“I know your problem with Goku,” she stated, and waited for the telltale signs of his temper coming to the surface. Vegeta was always pretty creative with his colorful insults and never disappointed her with his rants. It could be pretty entertaining, sometimes.

So it surprised her when, instead of his usually entertaining rant, Vegeta simply looked away, his jaw clenching.

Oh, _no._ This was a lot more serious than she’d thought.

There were two ways to deal with Vegeta, if she wanted to get anything out of him. One, push his stubbornness right back at him until they were both bashing their faces against the figurative wall. This had a success rate of 50%. Two, attack him with soft words and kindness - he had only known harshness and battle for most of his life (Bulma’s heart ached a little) so this second tactic tended to throw him off, but it also flirted with failure as Vegeta didn’t tend to tolerate sentimental nonsense. Success rate: also 50%. Knowing which technique to employ was always a guessing game for her, no statistics or percentages had ever been able to help. Bulma had little doubt that were she to ask Goku, he would have agreed similarly. It was trial and error, learning their ways around each other, learning how to love this endearingly tough man. 

She opted to go soft today, her husband looked like he needed it. “Vegeta, come on.” Her voice was soft as she tentatively reached out to place her hand on his shoulder. Vegeta let her, another screaming signal that something was wrong. “You’ve been avoiding him for months now, don’t you think it’s time to give it a break?”

“...The only thing I’m interested in breaking is Kakarot’s stupid face,” Vegeta muttered, scowling at nothing in particular. The brilliance that she was, Bulma seized that opening.

“I’m sure he’d be very happy if you did that, honestly,” she told him, rubbing gentle circles onto his shoulders. Outside of battle and making love, Vegeta rarely allowed anyone to touch him physically, not even herself as his wife. She’d noticed the little flinches and tension from accidental physical contact and could guess at the source, but never felt it her place to ask. Let him tell her or whoever he chose to tell, when the time came. “Why don’t you?”

Predictably, Vegeta’s silence held no useful answers, so it was time to be a little aggressive. “Vegeta, honestly, don’t you think you should stop giving him the cold shoulder? The guy literally saved your life.”

That got a reaction. Vegeta snarled, almost dislodging her hand. “I didn’t ask the fool to save me, we would have both handled those fucking poison daggers just fine, it’s absolutely insulting that he thought I needed saving, fuckin idiot trying to coddle me like I’m some kind of _helpless child_ -”

“Okay, okay,” Bulma back tracked quickly, having heard this particular rant before. “I get it, you’re mad that he protected you when you didn’t need him to. But Vegeta, it’s nothing to be prideful about- we all know you could have handled it just fine. That’s just the kind of person Goku is, he probably didn’t even think about what he was doing -I’m sure he didn’t mean to insult your pride by it.”

Vegeta’s mouth twisted unhappily. “I know that, woman.”

Bulma blinked. “If you know that, what’s the issue? Why avoid him for this long?” She asked, honestly baffled. “I know you miss him too, Vegeta - no, we are not arguing this.” Bulma’s hands pressed his shoulder a little firmer. The wall of muscle that masqueraded as his body probably didn’t even feel it, but she wanted to make her point and leave no room for his denial. “You and Goku have spent a lot of time together after Buu. I know you miss sparring with him, eating with him, bantering with him… You don’t have to admit to it, but don’t even _try_ to pretend with me, because I’ve seen through your bullshit for _years_.”

Vegeta looked trapped, a rare expression on his face. “I don’t see why we’re talking about that buffoon, woman,” he groused, deflecting in lieu of addressing the problem. Bulma knew his game too well. Mentally she screamed in frustration and took back everything fond she’d thought about this stubborn asshole of a man. God did she love him as much as she wanted to scream some sense into his sensitive ears.

“Because I want you to get your head out of your ass and just talk to him. Or -or bash him in the head, plant him into a mountain, whatever you two dumbasses do to bond-” she ignored his sputter of protest, talking right over it - “but for goodness’ sake, stop ignoring Goku and pretending he doesn’t exist, because you’re both as lost as puppies without each other and painful to watch.”

“We are warriors, not _helpless furry creatures_ , woman -”

“There you go again deflecting what I’m saying so I’d get caught up in a completely different argument!” Bulma exclaimed. “I’m trying to help you here, Vegeta! Can you be any more of a stubborn asshole?”

“I’m sure if I believed in myself and gave it my level best shot-”

Her mouth twitched, but she just about managed to stop herself from laughing. “Vegeta,” stern voice Bulma, stern, “you want to ignore Goku so much, one of these days he’ll be just _gone_ again and then you won’t have to ignore him anymore because _he won’t be there_!”

And it was only because she was watching him at close proximity, that she saw the quick darkening of his eyes, the slight despair and panic and determination to bury it all down. It was gone in space of a second, but Bulma was a sharp genius with the mind of a blade quicker than lightning, she would like the jury to know. So she caught it. And abruptly, her earlier confusion quietly exited the maze that was her brain. 

Oh. _Oh._

Wow. She’d truly married the most complicated man in all 12 universes, the poor bastard.

“Oh, Vegeta,” Bulma said softly, her tone suddenly tender again, wrapping both arms around his shoulders from behind. “You really are something else…” And she watched as Vegeta -panicked, was the word for it, he knew that tone of hers, knew when he’d been caught out. Immediately her husband went on the offensive, his usual method of defense,

“The hell are you on about _now_ , woman? Enough of your sentimental drivel for today,” he snapped while trying to extricate himself from her, harsh tone somewhat spoiled by his moving gently enough to not hurt her. Bulma paid his abrasiveness no mind, she’d learnt long ago to listen to his actions and body language over his words.

“You’re afraid,” Bulma stated into his flame of spikes, feeling him freeze immediately. “You’ve been avoiding Goku because you’re afraid.”

“What _preposterous_ -” 

“Goku almost dying made you realise you care for him, and that scares you. And now you don’t know how to act around him. And you’re afraid to care more, so you’re pushing him away.” The more she worked it through her brain, the more it made sense. It was standard Vegeta behaviour; she and (then baby) Trunks had both often been on the receiving end of his cold shoulder over the long 7 years when Goku chose to stay dead and they were first learning how to function as their own version of a little family. Vegeta didn’t know how to deal with his own feelings of affection because he’d had so little of it growing up, Bulma presumed; and it resulted in many hot and cold scenarios, where he’d appear to warm a little to her and baby Trunks, let them in a bit before shutting them out and throwing them even further away from the figurative place they had been before. It had dissipated after Buu, as the stubborn prince appeared to come to full acceptance that he’d grown a heart and learnt to love them. 

Apparently, it was Goku’s turn to receive the dubious honour.

“Woman.” Vegeta must have realised how defeated he sounded, and chose not to continue whatever denial he was forming. He dropped his head. “It doesn’t matter, it doesn’t change anything.”

“What do you mean, it doesn’t matter? Of course it does.” Bulma tried to make her voice gentle. It was obvious and easy for her to see and deal with emotions; for her emotionally-stunted royal husband, doing these things was likely harder than any battle he’d ever had to fight. “Have you told Goku why you’re so bothered? - Well of course you haven’t,” she answered her own question, “what am I thinking, I’m supposed to be a genius.”

“Your words, not mine, woman.” Vegeta had the gall to look amused. She was both infuriated and glad to see, but it disappeared as quickly as it came, replaced with a grimace. “Why does it matter what I tell the fool anyway?”

Bulma resisted the urge to strangle him, reminding herself that saiyans in general were emotionally stupid and therefore needed to be treated with utmost patience. “ _Because_ Goku is driving himself mad thinking you’re upset about him shielding you, when you’re actually less upset about that , and more upset about this… caring for him thing, which is something he can’t control.”

“He can control it by getting the hell out of my life-”

“ _Please_ , that would make you even grumpier than you already are, and then it would be _even more_ of a hell trying to talk to you,” Bulma swatted at him, letting him know there was no actual bite to her words. She sighed, trying a different tack. “Listen, it’s not just you, you know? Humans have trouble expressing affection for others too, they don’t know how to react afterwards.”

“I don’t appreciate being compared to a human.”

Bulma had to roll her eyes. Deflecting again. “Okay, Vegeta, but not the point here.” She came round the table to face him, refusing to allow him to look away. “You should tell him what the issue is, and that it’s not what he thinks. He can’t fix it if he doesn’t know it.” _And this isn’t even something_ **_he_ ** _can fix, it’s all on you, endearingly stubborn dumbass husband of mine._ “I know you don’t do words so tell him by bashing his head in, pummel him for two hours, whichever of your own dysfunctional way you like - the point is, honest communication is important in any relationship.”

Vegeta looked like he was suffocating. Interesting. “ _We are not in a relationship, woman-_ ”

“Not in the conventional sense of the word, no,” she shot back, “but call it what you want, Vegeta, it doesn’t change the fact that there _is_ something different and unique between you two. Even Goku knows it, he’s had many other rivals, but he’s different with you.” 

As Vegeta had his mini-heart attack and puffed at her, Bulma flashbacked to the many phone conversations she’d had with Chichi over their husbands and the status of this thing between them: was it a rivalship / friendship/ relationship-but-not? Both women had come to the quiet agreement that it could be something good for the two and their families as whole, if the knuckleheads ever allowed it. If nothing else, for the sad truth that the two full-blooded saiyans were destined to outlive their families - it would be good for them to have each other to lean on. 

But that conversation was for another time; Bulma had to help her emotionally-constipated husband through this baby step of an emotional crisis and realisation first, and ensure he survived. She interrupted Vegeta’s tirade. “Honestly, Vegeta, how was this even news to you? The whole ‘caring for Goku’ thing? Of course you do, the whole lot of us could see that for ages now.”

Immediately, she knew she had said the wrong thing. _Whoops._ Vegeta froze, a familiar look of panic overtaking his handsome features. “Us? Who do you mean, ‘us’?” he demanded.

“...Um,” Bulma quickly supplied a half-truth, “me, Trunks,” and _everyone else in our circle whose name isn’t Vegeta,_ she didn’t say, but it was a lost cause- she should have been matter-of-fact and shoved it in his face rather than stuttering. Once Vegeta got you on the defensive, it was game over.

“You…” Vegeta sucked a breath in. “All of you…” 

He looked completely overwhelmed. Bulma was a little afraid for him then. She knew that Vegeta hated losing control of anything; understood loosely that it was borne of his enslaved past. This clearly was something he’d not had a hand in. A million different emotions flashed in his eyes, some of which she couldn’t even begin to guess. And if she, the genius blessed by mother nature couldn’t interpret them, he had not a chance in hell. 

Finally Vegeta stood up, looking a breath away from exploding. “I need to get away from here.”

Bulma watched him worriedly. “Vegeta?” Vaguely she wondered if she pointed a scouter towards him now, it would show that his ki had risen dramatically with his emotions.

“...I hate you. All of you,” Vegeta announced to the air, as if it was news. “I hate Kakarot the most. I need some time _alone_.”

“...Okay, that’s fine, but please consider what I said.” Bulma pushed the forgotten coffee mug towards his hand, the liquid in it long gone cold. “Talk to Goku, “ she half-pleaded, half-ordered, using the tone she knew he was secretly soft for, just like she knew he was sometimes secretly soft for Goku’s pouting. “Call it whatever you want but even _you_ can’t deny you two have something precious. It’s really painful to watch you two continue like this.”

“...damn you, woman, making my life complicated as always,” he barked. His fingers brushed hers as he accepted the mug, another non-verbal gesture she understood to mean his ire was a front for his confusion. She knew him too well. In a second Vegeta was gone, so quickly he might as well have flown right out of the ceiling, except for the lack of broken tiles.

Bulma slumped back. Deep conversation with Vegeta always felt like working on one of her particularly long stubborn dead-end projects with very little numerical data and much guesswork. She hoped that she hadn’t just made things worse instead of better.

 _Vegeta, I wish you’d just let yourself accept a good thing for once, rather than questioning it and picking it apart until it breaks._ She hoped Goku would be as patient as she had been to break through the cracks. They both deserved something like this in their lives, even if only she and Chichi could talk about it just yet.

...Speaking of which, was it yet time for a gossip session call with Chichi? She tapped on her CC-watch, judged that it was not yet too late, and dialed in.

_Cold and hot, but somehow astoundingly here we are (Artist unknown, will credit if ever claimed)_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The whole time I was writing this I was itching to get on to Goku and Vegeta's part again, lol. I admit I'm very much a Goku & Vegeta lover in whatever form- friendship, love, whatever, just give it to me. I find their interactions and relationship fascinating, from the moment they met on that cliff top ready to fight to the death, to the moment they separated eternally at the end of GT, a goodbye more final than even death itself as in my understanding, they will not meet again even in the afterlife. 
> 
> However, writing from Bulma's POV has been fun and enlightening, I guess it's true what they say if you truly understand someone you can no longer hate them, great exercise as a writer and a human being! I was trying to balance her confidence/arrogance in her own genius with the heart and humour that she obviously carries (traits I believe she and Goku share, and why they are such best buds.)
> 
> My Headcanons  
> 1\. Vegeta is secretly soft for Goku's pout (and by soft I mean wants to he both wants to give in and wants to bash Goku's head in)  
> 2\. Goku finds Vegeta’s scowl very endearing, like an irritable cat, as does Bulma  
> 3\. Vegeta loves strong black coffee  
> 4\. Goku doesn't really like any specific drinks but will happily take mocha or hot chocolate, anything that tastes good and isn't an acquired taste  
> 5\. When nervous Goku rubs the back of his head (I'm sure this is canon, not just headcanon)  
> What are some of yours?
> 
> If there's anything you'd like to see in the coming chapters, feel free to let me know. Please leave a review if you can, even just one line telling me some quote you liked or didn't, a headcanon of yours, etc- it would really really make my day and existence a bit more bearable <3  
> *soft penguin clutches at coffee nervously*


	4. No Rhyme or reason, give up, Vegeta

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clearly brain damage was contagious, and Vegeta had been exposed to Kakarot’s brand of insanity for far too long to escape infection. “You are the bane of my existence, Kakarot."
> 
> The younger saiyan grinned, his whole face lit up. “Aww, Vegeta thanks! I don’t really know what that means, but you’re mine, too!”
> 
> Knowing Kakarot, the misinterpretation and misdirection of Vegeta’s statement could be true... or not. “Idiot,” Vegeta growled, lips twitching fondly in amusement despite himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. This was supposed to be Piccolo’s chapter, but Bulma had more to say it seemed, and Vegeta decided to come out to play too. Whoops. Sorry guys :( but I hope you’ll enjoy it somewhat *twiddles paws anxiously*  
> Also contrary to most fluff and slowburn fics, there is actualy a little bit of a plot going on, eg the ki dampener will become relevant later. Also, reminder that the romance burn is going to be extremely slow. >:D strap in.
> 
> 2.I'm really not sure how I feel about this chapter, I absolutely love some bits that would have made me really happy as a reader, but hated some bits with a passion because it turned out different from what I intended. I didn't want to erase it or dump it in the corner where fics slowly rot without anyone to remember them, though, so... here it is in its flawed form, like myself.  
> Would really appreciate hearing your thoughts :)

Bulma happily hit the controls that initiated her AI system to begin running diagnostics on the latest project she had been working with, and sat back. She was banking on above a 98% success rate from her work, nothing less than expected from the genius that she was. Quite abruptly she realised how her back ached from long, long hours of working over a table, and lengthened into a full stretch. Her eyes were strained and throat parched like sand, but she felt pretty good mentally. Messing about with her machines was her meditation, her headspace. Hours could pass that felt like minutes, and she always emerged from her creating haze feeling significantly happier than she had before she started. Riding the creator’s high was like a caffeine hit straight to the system. Probably how Vegeta felt about his sparring, sans the constant self-harm.

Her optimistic mood from the creator’s high took a sudden downward dive as she thought about the stubbornly proud endearing bastard of man she called a husband. And always, when she thought of one proud saiyan, she couldn’t help but think of the other. They came in pairs.

_“Goku, I need you to understand this,” Bulma said, resisting her half-formed thoughts of pulverising her oldest friend. “Vegeta’s not so upset about what you did in protecting him, as he is about his caring for you.”_

_She’d meant to be a good wife and friend by respecting Vegeta’s privacy and waiting it out for him to be ready to talk to the other saiyan. But that noble resolve was promptly broken upafter the umpteenth time that week Goku had materialised out of nowhere and scared the living daylights out of her to dog her about her stubborn asshole of a husband. Her heart could only take so much. Screw it, Vegeta could fight his own battles, but she’d cut this one short for him._

_Goku’s brow furrowed. He looked lost. “I thought he was upset about me tryna shield him,” he said honestly._

_“It’s true that Vegeta’s mad about that too. I don’t think,” Bulma hesitated, unsure if it was her place to say, then damning it all to hell, “I don’t think he wants to be in the position of becoming someone you have to protect.” In the privacy of her head she both apologised to Vegeta for exposing his secrets and mentally cursed him because of the stubborn man’s refusal to man up and talk things out like a normal person. “But really, he’s more in crisis mode over the fact that he’s come to care for you.”_

_Instead of confusion or dismissal, Goku had a contemplative look on his face. “...this is like when he turned Majin, isn’t it,” Goku said after a moment, and Bulma would forever be surprised by how his moments of brilliance eclipsed his moments of simplicity. “When he was scared that he’d learnt to care for you and Trunks.”_

_“Pretty much that, Goku,” Bulma nodded. She smiled wryly. “Seems like it’s your turn now to be on the receiving end."_

_Goku looked frustrated. “But… he doesn’t have to be ashamed or embarrassed or anything… it doesn’t matter… I care about him, too, it’s not like it’s just him...”_

**_Oho, interesting_ ** _. Goku was probably just being himself, stating things in an outright simplistic way, but Bulma gleefully filed away that particular phrase to interpret and gossip with Chichi about later. For now, she only sighed. “I know, but you know as well as I do that for Vegeta, emotions don’t come easily. We have to be very patient with him.”_

_“I just want us to be okay and sparring again,” Goku said plaintively. His face was contorted in an unhappy pout that almost comically contradicted his physical build that was more solid than a freaking tank. It still amazed her sometimes that the clueless little kid with the tail she had met in the woods all those years ago had grown to become this formidable wall of muscle, strength and compassion. Who knew._

_Goku’s handsome features looked so distressed and miserable that the last of Bulma’s annoyance at him for startling her earlier melted into sympathy. She patted his shoulder in commiseration. “Just give Vegeta time, Goku, he’ll come around.”_

_“But it’s been months, Bulma,” Goku half-whined. “Isn’t there any way I can make him come around faster?”_

_“Start by trying not to coddle him. He doesn’t want to be your second,” Bulma told him. That was simple enough. “The rest, we figure out as we go along.” She hoped._

_“...okay,” Goku muttered, his expression reminding Bulma of Goten’s when he was sulking at Trunks about something her son had done. “I’m not just going to wait for him to come around though, I’m going to keep trying.”_

_“As long as you don’t end up killing each other along the way, Goku, or destroying half the universe in the process,” she patted him again._

That had been the end of that conversation, but she was certain there were more times to follow soon unless the two saiyans somehow managed to break this odd little stand-off between them.

Her flow of thought was interrupted as her AI bleeped, signalling the diagnostic processing had come to an end. Bulma jumped to her feet eagerly, as the number 99% flashed across the holoscreen. “Yes! I’m a total genius!” She crowed.

She’d been studying the mechanics of the ki dampener force field that months ago had given the Z fighters so much trouble to see if she could generate something similar for training purposes. This way if they were ever to be surprised by a ki-dampening force field again, at least the fighters would have had some experience in combat without ki. When told, Goku had been excited; separately, Vegeta had grunted, commenting that it was an idea “not without merit”, which was basically equal to a shout of approval.

Earth was lucky to have such a brilliant and beautiful genius on their side, honestly.

Earth was also lucky to have several saiyans, their hybrid children, a namekian and some androids as part of their protective force.

Bulma had never felt herself inferior to anyone. Being born a rich heiress with more brains than most of Earth put together and completely dominating the genetic lottery tended to do that. She was truly blessed and spoilt by the universe in that regard. Despite her heritage, however, she could admit to sometimes feeling a twinge when she watched her closest friends and family stand up yet again to another faceless enemy. It was why she was often reckless and threw herself in over her head in dangerous situations. She was blessed with so many talents, gifted with everything money could buy. Yet when a villain hellbent on destruction came along, she fell by the wayside like everyone else. What use were all her gifts?

Looking back, she couldn’t pinpoint why or exactly when her conscientious sixteen year-old self had matured. Perhaps the fire started the moment she saw a little tuft of purple hair, and curious purple eyes both so like and unlike his paternal origin, looking up at her from swaddled white sheets. The moment she fell madly in love with something other than herself.

Perhaps it started before then, when she saw her oldest friend in the hospital bed with no fear in his eyes, despite being wrapped up in bandages and body and bones being broken in far too many places to count. The way his gaze held nothing but excitement and wonder despite the recent revelation that he was a stranger to this planet. 

Perhaps it had started even earlier, when she watched horrified from a screen as South City was blown to bits by two strange, menacing figures who reminded her of samurai: one intimidatingly huge in frame and bulk; the other small, lean and somehow more cruel looking, who would one day end up becoming her husband. 

Regardless of when, Bulma had quietly sworn one night never to just be a bystander when she had the money, brains, and power to create an impact. Sure, her closest friends and family were primed for danger and death, as Earth’s frontliners. Sure, she couldn’t protect them herself, physically at least- she was weak. But she could create armor to fortify their defenses. She could create equipment to help them get stronger. She could help patch them up when they were emotionally wounded, or at least nudge them in the right direction, though that last one probably only applied to emotional invalids like two certain knucklehead saiyans she knew.

She hoped this latest innovation of hers would help make things better, would help make them stronger. This was her way of showing love.

* * *

Vegeta had had many, many strange moments in his life, times in which his ‘weird shit’ meter completely gave in and blew over like one of those stupid fireworks Earthlings were so fond of. His former life as a mercenary- foot soldier -slave in the Planet Trade Organisation, followed by the arduous, conflict-rife assimilation to become part of the team of misfits that Bulma had dubbed the Z-fighters, had provided plenty of weird shit fodder to feed a novel. Considering his heritage and history, not to mention the company he kept, it was inevitable really, that he would be exposed to so much bullshit. 

However, the prince would forever remember this particular day as being one of the most ludicrous of his two lives, if only for his own reactions to it.

It started with Pan, the littlest and only female of saiyan blood they had in their midst (Vegeta wasn’t sure yet how he felt about that) just shy of turning one in Earth years. Bulma had wanted to throw another one of her big parties, an idea that much enthused Kakarot’s wife, but after discussion with Gohan’s wife, they’d agreed to keep it to close family and friends only for the toddler’s sake. While Vegeta had mellowed enough over the years that he no longer viewed everything and anything that moved as an annoyance, he still felt awkward at big gatherings and did not voluntarily want to be there. He really did not know how to talk to people- time under Frieza had not provided much practice for social niceties, and he was not naturally the approachable type, unlike a certain imbecile saiyan who must not be named, who could and would make friends with literally anything that moved.

Among all those in attendance, Vegeta rather thought that Piccolo felt most similarly to him in terms of social unease, though there was no doubt about the Namek would show up, never one to miss anything to do with the progeny of his precious protege.

Perhaps knowing his slight friskiness around social gatherings even now, Bulma had taken the opportunity to show off her latest innovation: a ki-dampener contraption which she had reverse-engineered from their last brush with death. She must have known the interest it would rouse in him, as per anything to do with battle. Vegeta idly fingered the bracelet version of it he’d put on as he considered how it could be best put to use in future training sessions. Certainly his woman was incredible, and though it was infuriating given how much she already knew it, she deserved all the praise she got. He watched slightly off to the side, deep in thought as the Earthlings oohed and aahed and crowded around her work.

When he was first forced to stay on Earth post-Namek, Vegeta had constantly compared the Earthlings to his ideals of the saiyan race. Saiyans lived for battle, which meant that bloodshed and loss of life was a natural result for it. It wasn’t that life wasn’t valued; but a meaningful and worthy life was valued over a long one. And for saiyans, meaning and battle were one and the same word. The Earthlings might call it ruthless, but the truth was it was a matter of values: saiyans simply did not see spilled blood with the same horror or nausea as humans seemed to, because it was a natural part of their lifestyle. This idealisation of his own race meant he viewed Earthlings with utter contempt, what with their reluctance to battle and their reaction to killing, both necessary and not. How much more cowardly and faint-hearted could these insignificant creatures get? 

_“He fought hard... I guess I should at least dig him a grave…” he could hear the bald one saying._

_He forced himself to speak. One malevolent eye popped open, the other having been rendered completely useless, followed with a cruel smirk. “You mean, for yourselves?_ ”

However, with every apocalypse and threat they had faced, his scorn had slowly morphed into reluctant respect, and finally begrudging admiration. Contempt had gradually faded, with rationality and objectivity had taken its place. Objectively, Vegeta recognised that the humans’ physical constitution were far more fragile than the saiyans, whose bodies were practically indestructible and _made_ for battle, right down to the Zenkai boost that surged to protect them at critical moments of near-death. Compared to the war machines that a saiyan’s body was, a human’s body was laughably more breakable than glass. Even Piccolo as a Namekian with his ability of limb regeneration was made more for defense than offense. And yet, the small team of misfits that made up their little group kept standing back up to fight the next threat that came their way, if only even to help on the sidelines. Their stand was not without fear, but certainly not lacking courage. As a warrior prince, Vegeta could appreciate that.

His home planet was ash and his people less than stardust, but somehow, he’d still found a place among warriors.

“Hey Vegeta!” a painfully-endearing, familiarly cheerful voice that could only belong to a fool the prince had determinedly been ignoring, boomed from behind him. “Heads up! Catch!”

Vegeta blinked, startled. His shunning of Kakarot had not yet been put to a stop (yes, the prince of all saiyans was holding fast to his crown as King of Stubborness) so the too-casual, too-loud tone of Kakarot’s voice was quite unexpected, to say the least. 

In hindsight, Vegeta really should have known the younger saiyan was up to something. Without the ki dampener effect he surely would have sensed the buildup and charge of the familiar blue light, his sharp hearing certainly would have picked up on the familiar crackle and accompanying heat that had both been upon him in battle, and of him in fusion. At that precise moment however, the prince was only able to stare in slightly stupefied amazement as Kakarot lobbed one of the largest ki blasts Vegeta had ever seen him produce when friends and the vulnerable were in the very near vicinity, directly at his person. 

Despite often berating Kakarot for perpetual foolishness and terminal idiocy, Vegeta knew for a fact that the younger saiyan’s clowning around belied a considerate side that people often missed. Kakarot was in fact constantly conscious that the strength he carried had a high potential of causing unintentional damage, and thus was fairly mindful on how he exerted it (as mindful as a fool could be, anyway.) This level of carelessness among his loved ones was unprecedented. _What the hell was Kakarot thinking?!_

Instincts kicking in, Vegeta mentally attempted to raise a force shield on instinct before realising within a split second that he had _slapped on a fucking ki dampener on his person_ not minutes ago. In the next split second he moved to dodge, but came to an immediate halt as his saiyan battle-geared brain made rapid calculations. The estimated odds of his base form with stripped back ki taking the blast head on and surviving were roughly 60-40, while the odds of many of the people around him (Bulma! Bunny Briefs! Trunks, Goten! Even some of the Earthlings he had grown to be tolerant of) surviving the lethal friendly fire was most decidedly zero.

So Vegeta took the blast head on. 

Reflecting upon the whole thing later, Vegeta would realise four things: 1. His thought process had been instinctive and panic-driven: while Bulma and Bunny had been valid concerns, Trunks, Gohan and Goten could have held their own -he would expect and tolerate nothing less from his own son and the spawn of his greatest rival. 2. He must have felt very at ease with the familiar chatter and milling of the Earthlings to have completely let down his guard, enough that it had taken even longer than a second for him to register what was happening. This level of ease would have been scorned by past-Vegeta and surely have led to a quick death, and that he had become so comfortable with current company was a thought which was both astounding and frightening at once. 3. Apparently, appallingly, Vegeta trusted Kakarot so much that even with clear visual cues from his own eyes, it took him time to process that he was technically and effectively under attack from the other saiyan- once again, a thought that was a little less astounding and a lot more frightening; and finally 4. Kakarot must have truly trusted him in turn to catch the blast in time or to _do something_ , because the collateral damage would have been significant.

Ears ringing, eyes watering and coughing up something foul as he sat up, Vegeta became aware of large, warm, frantic hands around his shoulders, checking for injury. The telltale hum of his own ki signalled that the ki dampener bracelet had been snapped, the likely perpetrator being this big dumb frantic oaf of a saiyan in front of him. “Vegeta!” Kakarot’s voice was panic-stricken. “Oh thank Kami, you’re okay, I didn’t mean for it to be that bad-” 

Slowly it registered that there were other voices around them joining the fray, making Vegeta’s head hurt.

“Dad, what- _why_ -”

“Son Goku, _what on Earth_ -”

“ _Why’d you do that to DAD_ -”

“Goku!” Bulma’s incredulous voice rang out above his head, Kakarot’s wife following hot on her heels. Both women looked outraged. Vegeta recognised that tone, it was the one that meant she was so livid beyond the zone of anger that she went straight to embodying the living pits of hellfire, and the wisest course of action for anyone on the receiving end was to run like mad in the opposite direction. But Kakarot wasn’t someone who could have ever been called wise in his eulogy, which looked likely to be coming to meet him a lot sooner than expected.

Kakarot looked nervous. Vegeta, still slightly dazed, didn’t bother to help him nor push him away. “Bulma, please listen to me for a second, I know that looked really bad-”

Bulma took a deep breath and promptly lost it. “ -the hell it does!” she shouted at the top of her lungs, which was formidable when one was a Briefs. “What the hell, Goku! What were you trying to do?!”

“Bulma-”

“ANSWERS RIGHT NOW Son Goku or I swear I will kill you myself-”

Vegeta felt strangely removed from the scene. He watched as if from faraway as Kakarot shrank back comically from the force of Bulma’s anger, his hands still around Vegeta’s frame. As he nervously tried to explain his logic and the sequence of his thoughts, the younger saiyan’s face was the picture of dread, as if he knew it was a doomed attempt. 

“I was trying to make things up to Vegeta!” Kakarot blurted out, as if that made the slightest bit of sense, as if the day couldn’t get any more ludicrous.

_What._

“What?!” Both Bulma and Chichi exclaimed at the same time, their collective bemused reactions summarily expressing his own thoughts. The group around them echoed similar confusion, though with his befuddled state of mind, Vegeta could barely pay them any more than distant attention. 

Kakarot stumbled upon his words quickly as he tried to explain, resulting in even more brilliant nonsense. “Vegeta’s angry because I made him angry by protecting him, so I’m trying to make him not angry anymore-”

“- _by killing him instead?!”_

“I wasn’t trying to kill him!” Kakarot protested miserably. “I was just trying to _not-protect him-_ as in, I was trying to do the opposite of what he didn’t want-”

As the words registered, to his horror, Vegeta found something bubbling up from deep within his chest. He fought to keep it from coming to the surface, but like everything else to do with Kakarot and this stupid mudball of a planet, ultimately it wasn’t something that he could repress. 

A sputter of a sound broke out. All eyes in the clearing turned to Vegeta, who was both laughing and trying to stop laughing, resulting in comical little choked-off sounds that were almost painful to hear. Finally the prince simply gave up resisting and let himself go. His whole body shook, his breath coming in gasps as he tried to at least say something: “Kakarot - you-” but one look at the dumbass that was his rival set him off again.

No help for it; the wave of laughter in his chest started again and kept going. _Damn_ it _all,_ Vegeta was never _ever_ going to live this down. As his amusement finally began to subside, Vegeta risked a glance up to judge the air. Kakarot managed to look both confused and delighted, a feat only an idiot like him could pull off. Trunks looked on wonder and in fascination, having never seen his father laugh like that before. Bulma was still angry but also amused, with a suspicious, plotting little glint in her eyes. The Namek and Gohan both wore similar looks, like they knew something he didn't? While everyone else who Vegeta did not particularly care for at that point had expressions that varied on the spectrum of amusement and slightly freaked out.

He wanted to sneer at them, but found that he couldn’t. The earlier hilarity was truly a bizarre reaction from the Prince of All Saiyans after all, a feat only very certain few would manage to pull out from him. Old Asshole-Vegeta might have felt humiliated, but current still-Asshole Vegeta just found the whole situation entertaining, if surreally so, and a welcome addition to his “Ludicrous things I’ve done” list.

“Vegeta?” Kakarot’s tone was questioning, hopeful. He'd dropped his hands from Vegeta's body somewhere around the time the prince had been laughing insanely. 

Vegeta turned to the other saiyan, rather missing the weight of his hands. The prince was torn between irritation, exasperation, amusement, and something that was horrifically like fondness. He shook his head, completely giving up in trying to sort out his thoughts. Clearly brain damage was contagious, and Vegeta had been exposed to Kakarot’s brand of insanity for far too long to escape infection. “Kakarot, you really are something else.”

“So are you, Vegeta!” Kakarot babbled happily at him, clearly relieved that the standoff silence between them that had been so stubbornly enforced by Vegeta seemed to finally be crumbling. “I thought you would deflect that blast or somethin’, because you couldn’t use ki, but you took it head on!”

Vegeta stared at him. So Kakarot had been watching him for when he test-tried the ki dampener bracelet, and purposely plotted for that moment. That was almost admirably sneaky, for such imbecile. “You are the **bane** of my existence, Kakarot."

The younger saiyan grinned, his whole face lit up. “Aww, Vegeta, thanks!" Kakarot replied cheekily. "I don’t really know what that means, but you’re mine, too!”

Knowing Kakarot, the misinterpretation and misdirection of Vegeta’s statement could be true... or not. “Idiot,” Vegeta growled, tone licking any heat, lips twitching fondly in amusement despite himself. _Oh what the hell_ , whatever front he had been trying to put up had been blown wide open, danced its merry way to hell and clambered back today. He would put his masks and walls back up some other time. For now he would enjoy this little… gift of a moment, whatever it was.

He was aware of Bulma’s meaningful, knowing gaze on him but paid it no mind. Kakarot looked hopeful, the simple-minded fool. “So can we spar now?”

Vegeta opened his mouth to say… he wasn’t sure what he was going to say right then, but both their women beat him to it. “NO!” Bulma and Chichi exploded in unison.

“Not until you’ve cleaned up the mess you made, Goku!” Chichi maintained firmly.

“This is Pan’s moment, we are not sabotaging it any further for you two knuckleheads!” Bulma agreed.

Kakarot’s mouth turned down at the corners, his earlier brightness gone dim. Considering he had spent most of the last few months actively being the cause of that expression, Vegeta found it hugely ironic that it somewhat bothered him. He blamed it on the high of adrenaline that must still be running through his system. “Stop pouting, Kakarot, that’s unbecoming of a saiyan,” Vegeta ordered, just to take that expression off the dumbass’s face. “My boot will be in your stupid face eventually, you can wait a little bit longer.”

Kakarot’s face transformed again with a sort of joy that was different from his usual carefree grin. It was something softer, sweeter, similar to the gentle smile he’d worn as they’d shared food over the rooftop of Capsule Corp, backlit by a sunset sky some moons ago. And Vegeta would never admit aloud how it warmed the pathetic, decrepit little thing called a heart he apparently had. He would also never admit aloud the simple pleasure and power trip it was to be one of the very rare few to be able put that expression on the other saiyan’s face. Unbidden, he almost smiled back at the other saiyan before catching himself. 

Today was truly a weird, weird day, and it was mostly caused by his own damn self. 

Too busy having an internal crisis, Vegeta almost missed the moment Bulma and Chichi exchanged a look that was loaded with meaning and instantly put him on guard. Entire conversations were going on with that one glance. His eyes narrowed- he would need to talk to Bulma soon and find out what she was plotting, because she definitely was plotting something, and what the hell did it have to do with Kakarot’s wife, because that devious look exchanged between them made his alarm bells scream.

For now though, in a rare moment of acceptance, the prince decided he would let it go, and simply enjoy watching the imbecile get berated for his actions. At least that would not go on his weird shit meter.

* * *

(days later)  
  


Kakarot’s ki was flickering somewhere in this nondescript plain, its low hum indicating the other saiyan was likely to be in a meditative, non-powered up state. Vegeta took a moment to check that his own ki was suppressed. He wanted to startle Kakarot. 

Even though they’d both been able to sense each other beyond ki in the form of a mental bond since the fusion, that connection was untrained and weak. Both saiyans preferred not to rely on it due to the invasion of privacy (though it still quietly surprised Vegeta that the fool had any.) It was a mutual unspoken agreement to not ever speak of this… post-fusion mental link. Given the way the universe seemed to insist pushing him ever closer towards the other saiyan though, it was probably something that would happen eventually, likely in a way Vegeta would hate.

Regardless, Vegeta wasn’t going to be the one to willingly bridge that gap. He elected to ignore it until that fateful time it bludgeoned him in the face.

As he was planning to do to Kakarot now. Vegeta smirked, something feral in the tilt of his lips.

Kakarot was moving slowly, practicing a balance kata that Vegeta distantly noted was one he had taught the younger saiyan some months ago. He watched for a bit, appreciating the smooth execution, the controlled grace. Kakarot tended to act clumsy and overbearing everywhere, so it was easy to forget that on the battlefield, he was something else: graceless duck transformed into a refined blade, elegant but lethal in every move, _utterly dominating_ attention, more efficient and deadly than any warrior Vegeta had met over his two lifetimes of fighting. Vegeta despised that he begrudgingly admired it. On the battlefield, Kakarot was beautiful. 

But damned if he didn’t want to throttle the other man for it.

Kakarot never saw it coming. One moment he was moving slowly: a strong brace of the core, a controlled arch of the spine. The next moment, he was flying backwards as a gloved fist smashed powerfully into his face. Kakarot staggered and righted himself in midair just before his body hit the cliffside behind him, a testament to his quick reflex and control. Vegeta revelled in the look of utter shock and half-anger that Kakarot wore, before comprehension dawned and complete joy overtook his soft features. Kakarot would know of course that only one person in the world would hit him that viciously and still call it friendly fire, confident he could take it and not break.

The smile that completely lit up his features made something in Vegeta’s chest flip something funny. Any other person would have reacted in anger rather than joy, but here the buffoon was, smiling like the fool he was. Really, Kakarot was truly unlike any other warrior or person Vegeta had met. Not just in terms of battle prowess, but in temrs of his heart. Everyone whose lives had the (mis)fortune to be touched by the idiot either ended up dead or his friend, there was no inbetween. He was what Earth called a hero, a savior, the opposite of everything Vegeta had been. Everyone wanted to be around the world’s saviour, everyone coveted his presence; But while Vegeta too fell under the pull of Kakarot’s gravity and charismatic pull, he wasn’t interested in being saved. What he admired in Kakarot were things beyond that: his courage, his strength, his compassion (loathe as Vegeta was to admit it.) His undeniably present saiyan streak of battle hunger that burned bright and always felt strange to see. His capacity for forgiveness, for seeing beyond Vegeta’s masks.

“Vegeta!” Kakarot laughed. “You sneak, you got me real good there!” The clown knew without saying, what Vegeta’s presence meant.

“Hmph.” Vegeta would die a third time before admitting it, but it was soothing to hear the idiot’s delighted, child-like laughter. Something tight eased in his chest, after months of avoiding the other saiyan. A talking Kakarot - an annoying, insufferable, no sense of personal space Kakarot- was better than a dead one. Marginally. Most of the time. “You never stood a chance, Kakarot.”

“Oh really,” Kakarot smirked at him, “Try that when I’m not distracted, I bet you wouldn’t even be able to touch me.”

Abruptly Vegeta took back everything he’d mentally acquiesced to earlier- Kakarot was dead, was _soooo_ dead. Dead Kakarot it was. “It’ll take less than a second for me to plant you into a mountain, clown-!”

“Prove it, come and get me then-”

And they were off, Kakarot soaring high above him, distant laughter in his ears while Vegeta flew closely behind. And if their exchange was a little more lethal than usual: punches a little rougher, kicks more deadly, touches lingering a little longer than strictly necessary; neither deigned to mention it. It didn’t need words, this thing between them: after months of avoidance Kakarot somehow understood that something had changed, and that all was now forgiven, but he didn't need to know the reason why, and Vegeta was not planning on telling him ever. 

_Missed you, you bastard._

__ __

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> in case some of you haven’t cottoned on and because I have been asked, the title of this fic is from Taylor Swift’s ‘Call It What You Want.’ As a kakavege shipper some of the lines in that song just make me squeeee. Try Dancing With Our Hands Tied, and Red too. I just think of kakavege <3
> 
> Please, if you can spare a moment, reviews are always appreciated and would be an easy kindness to share? 
> 
> Thanks to those who asked after my headspace from the last chapter. i'm still here, still fighting. it means a lot to reach out to a complete stranger like that. hopefully in a yeari will be better!


	5. Future Trunks: the Soulmate theory

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trunks watched Vegeta watching Goku as Goku's eyes slipped closed, absent-mindedly brushing aside the younger saiyan's mess of bangs, as if his father had forgotten there was someone else there. “Idiot,” Vegeta murmured, and from another person, that tone might have been a weary sort of fondness. “Always the bane of my existence...”
> 
> “Why do you spend so much time with him if you find him so annoying?” Trunks dared to ask. He was walking over so many lines today, what the hell, may as well make a day of it.
> 
> Vegeta’s gaze grew distant, and somehow Trunks had the sense that his father wasn’t exactly with him at that moment. “I have done nothing to earn him, but I will do everything I can to deserve him.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. If you didn't read/ watch Future Trunks arc in DBS, or have a basic knowledge of it I suggest you read the wiki before reading this. Chapter 17 of the manga, if nothing else, because it would be confusing otherwise.  
> 2\. As this is from Future Trunks' pov and no one thinks of themselves as “future me”, I will be referring to him as “Trunks” only and make it clear that I’m referring to the younger Trunks by using the term “Chibi-Trunks.”  
> Vegeta is HORRIBLE to him at the start of this chapter, BUT THERE IS A REASON FOR IT. please stay with me DX  
> Also According to the wiki Future Trunks refers to Vegeta and Bulma as "Father" and "Mother" respectively, as opposed to "Papa" and "Mama" which younger Trunks uses in the Japanese version. I am holding true to this.  
> 3\. Apologies for the more sombre tone of this chapter as compared to the last four, but Future Trunks is suffering from depression and PTSD, as both the anime and manga versions of him exhibit these symptoms. I am trying to portray that here. My own current depression has largely helped me write it out. If yourself or anyone you love is suffering, please reach out.  
> 4\. In the manga especially, if you pay attention, Goku spends a LOT of time watching Vegeta, or smiling at him for his antics, especially when he does something that shows how much he’d grown. I am trying to portray that here.

Trunks had always known that his decision to go back 17 years into the past to prevent tragedy from occurring in the form of Goku’s premature death would have large consequences. That had been the point of it, after all. Sometimes when sleep eluded him, he would think of the past timeline he’d been part of saving, and wonder what had become of each of them: Goku, his proud father, his much younger, more exuberant mother, young Gohan, his baby counterpart… Objectively, he knew that unintended, unforeseeable divergences would have come out of his actions. Expect the unexpected, that would be the most apt motto to summarise time travel.

But Trunks had to admit, of the many things he did not expect as a result of his time travel and changing the past, the growing closeness between the past versions of his father and Goku was very, very high on the list.

Trunks was the progeny of a warrior prince and heiress genius. He inherited some of their best, most badass qualities, including their sharp minds. He was a fighter like his father, a protector like his timeline’s Gohan, but he was a scientist at heart, like his mother. He fought to save his world, but in another life, Trunks might have chosen the path of science as his mother had. His thought process was methodical, and he rarely jumped to conclusions without examining evidence.

Thus, hard-based evidence was the approach Trunks chose to examine his theory of this developing affection between the past versions of his father and Goku.

**Theory: Goku and Vegeta were soulmates, in every sense of the word.**

**Sample 1: how his father and Goku had acted the first time he’d seen them again**

“Mom! You’re still alive!”

Tears in his eyes, relief in his raw, grieving heart. Landing into another timeline was always confusing, more so when you’d literally just escaped the heat of battle from a hated enemy and tormentor. Seeing his dead mother again as her alternate form, looking much more youthful and carefree than his own had ever been, left Trunks disoriented and wracked with guilt. Not to mention seeing Goku and hallucinating him as Goku Black, despite the obvious differences in the kindness of his eyes. 

It took awhile for Trunks to finally be able to stop apologizing for trying to attack past Goku - though to be fair to him, the last time he’d seen them all in this timeline, Goku was dead, or more accurately had chosen to stay dead. Once Bulma had gotten the explanations out of the way- something about ‘coming back to life to fight a pink bubblegum monster, and everyone died but everyone’s okay now’ and _whoa_ was that a story he had to find out later- Trunks explained his reasons for being there for the second time, seeking their help.

As Trunks told the story of Zamasu and Black and how the duo had completely ravaged his timeline, the earlier relief and lightness at seeing their faces again faded into the familiar, suffocating wretches of despair that clung to his very bones. Trunks felt himself sink into the depression that had made its home in his heart, aware of his defeated aura, aware that he was precipitating a sombre, dark cloud to present company, and yet unable to do anything about it.

"It's my fault... I was too weak to save anyone..." he whispered.

"Oh, Trunks," Bulma’s earlier brightness at seeing her future son again had gone, her beautiful face turned grim. Goku looked confused, alarmed and sympathetic all at once, and Vegeta… his father of the past radiated with displeasure and something else. He didn’t dare look at Vegeta, afraid of the disappointment he might see. The solemnity of the other two was clear enough that Trunks felt the wicked twin jaws of guilt and despair swallow him whole.

Finally, it seemed like his father had had enough of his depression. “Boy.” Vegeta’s harsh bark drew the attention of everyone present. Startled, Trunks gazed at the prince with a bit of hurt. He would be the first to admit that he and Vegeta were still not the most friendly terms when they parted ways last time, even after their whole shared experience and ordeal with Cell.

...But he had rather thought they had moved on from the distancing name-calling to first name basis... 

Trunks quickly hid his hurt; everything he knew of Vegeta told him the prince would not appreciate overt shows of emotion, especially from his son. “Yes... father?” Better to be polite - or at least deliberately dense and let everything bounce off his ears, just as he’d seen Goku do on numerous occasions in response to Vegeta’s attempts to provoke him during the buildup to the Cell Games.

“You said your Mother is dead. Do you mean to tell us that you let your own mother die at the hands of a man who wore her best friend’s dumb face?”

Trunks flinched at the harsh words, amid the gasp from Bulma of the past. “I…” Cruel as Vegeta’s words were, the sentiment was not unfamiliar: he tortured himself with similar thoughts in his every waking moment, if not in so many words. “Yes, father.” Trunks admitted quietly, shame curling in his throat. “I-”

“Such a weakling,” his father from the past sneered. “All that power, everything you’ve learnt from us, and you couldn’t even save one damn human.”

Trunks couldn’t believe his ears. He knew Vegeta could be cruel, but this was another level entirely. “Father…? _”_ His voice cracked, as Vegeta’s once-familiar, cold eyes bore into his. 

“Once again you come crying to us asking for help,” Vegeta drawled, his every word stabbing deep daggers into Trunks’ raw, shrivelled heart. “A pathetic, useless little worm.”

From the corner of his eyes Trunks sensed Goku, his face pulled into a frown- _so familiar, but so different from Black’s hateful eyes, he wanted to shudder and cry in relief all at once_ \- step closer to his father, as if to say something, but Vegeta snapped at him. “Stay out of this, fool.” And curiously, despite everything Trunks knew and had witnessed about Son Goku’s predisposition to pacifying conflict at least between friends, the kind-hearted saiyan fell silent. Leaving him at the mercy of his father’s cruel, cutting words.

“Rather than having such a useless weakling as her sole legacy,” Trunks already knew to dread the next words he would hear. “Your mother is better off dead, boy.”

Those words were the trigger.

“ **SHUT UP** !” Trunks _roared,_ hair igniting into a brilliant, furious gold, electricity surging and crackling along his thinner frame in a burst of agonized ki. Vegeta caught the first aggressive push of his ki with barely a flinch, the lack of which only served to incense Trunks further.

“Is that the best you can do, boy?” Vegeta taunted. “No wonder she died, you’re useless.”

“ **Shut up, you know absolutely nothing!** ” All of Trunks’ suffocating feelings of failure and guilt and _help she’s dead they’re all dead I couldn’t save them it’s all my fault I’m drowning it’s all my fault_ was suddenly eclipsed by a brilliant, raging fury. Trunks welcomed it. Trunks wanted it, this exploding flame of hurt and _frenzy of rage_ that consumed his soul, anything that helped him feel anything more than the sludge or sorrow and guilt and numbness that he had been drowning in. Trunks charged at his cruel bastard of a father.

“Trunks, **no**!” He could hear Bulma, but her voice was faint amid the roar in his ears. “Vegeta you **asshole** , stop!” 

The wrath scared him. He wasn’t this. He didn’t burn off anger or use it as fuel, like his father and Goku did. But _gods_ did it feel good, to wear something other than self-loathing and uselessness and failure. The fury brought him alive, if only for a moment.

“I know nothing?” Vegeta laughed, a fake, cruel laugh, as the prince easily blocked Trunks’ flurry of punches and kicks. He could do it in his base form without much effort, it seemed, but Trunks was still injured and moreso, was absolutely drunk on rage. “Don’t make me laugh, I can see it from your eyes- I know that you know that **her death was because of you**!”

Trunks let out a wordless scream of rage and charged again, forcing Vegeta to ascend once to block. But even he was able to recognise from faraway that his movements were sloppy, reckless, no finesse, nothing like the gifted fighter his Gohan had trained him to be. _Gohan… I failed you too… again..._

Trunks’ strike went wide at the sudden flare of pain the thought brought to his heart. Curiously Vegeta didn’t take advantage of the opening and go in for the kill, despite what Trunks knew of his ruthlessness. It was almost enough to stop his tempestuous assault. But perhaps his cruel father wanted to play and taunt some more, Trunks reasoned bitterly. He struck out blindly. “I couldn’t help it, any of it!” 

Vegeta scoffed. “Excuses from a weakling who couldn't save one damn human.” 

“Vegeta **stop this**!” His young mother from the past sounded frantic and anxious. Vegeta simply ignored her. “Goku, do something!” Distantly, Trunks noted how odd it was that the other saiyan didn’t acknowledge her, his eyes grim and sharp upon them both.

“Look at me, boy!” Vegeta’s growl sent a jolt through Trunks’ spine. “You can’t even say a damn thing back, because you know it’s the truth, your mother would have been alive if not for you - your weakness caused her to die! You were too weak to save her-”

_(“Go, Trunks!” His mother shouted, voice strong and brave despite how fragile and broken she looked with Goku Black’s wicked suffocating grip around her throat. “Don’t worry about me! You’re our only hope to save everyone!”)_

“Too weak to fight for your own damn timeline-”

( _Ashes upon ashes, where was the light? Black’s silhouette revealed, fire and destruction worse than the androids ever managed, Mai is dying oh god Gohan he’d failed-_ )

“You have no idea what I’ve been through!” Trunks screamed, voice raw, as if the loudness of his words would make it less of a hollow lie. “I was injured, I had to save everyone, I had to get the time machine out-”

“Excuses,” Vegeta blocked his first and why damn it why was he still not attacking? Trunks would welcome the physical pain, it would be better than these vicious truths - “Say whatever the fuck you want but make sure you believe it first, boy. I can see the guilt in your eyes, worthless-”

“Shut up!”

“- all your fault-”

“It’s not my fault she’s dead!” Trunks cried out, his voice finally cracking, aware he was repeating himself on loop like one of his mother’s broken machines, but unable to do more. _Mother..._ “I had to get out for everyone else, I couldn’t save her, there was no choice!”

“Bullshit!”

“No! It’s-” Trunks swung wildly, Vegeta staggered but didn’t yield-

“-not-” why was his savage asshole of a father not attacking back, Trunks wanted the pain-

“-my-” _come ON hit me BACK you bastard-_

“- fault!” A desperate, agonized throw-

_It’s not my fault…_

His own words echoed back at him, and Trunks came to a stunned halt, his legs abruptly giving out as he fell out of his super saiyan form. Vegeta made no move to catch him as he fell on his knees to the floor, but, Trunks slowly realised, there was no responding attack, no malicious intent in his ki either. Some of the tension in the air had fizzled out as past father and future son gazed at each other, both people of tragic, bloody pasts and lost, broken worlds.

“It’s not my fault…” Trunks whispered, for the benefit of absolutely no one, he realised now, but his own damn self.

And as he stared up into Vegeta’s eyes, bleak and dead with the horrors his father had both seen and committed, eyes that shared the same weight of Trunks’ guilt and mistakes ( _some things they could just would never speak about)..._ Trunks began to find something fragile, that was like a seed of forgiveness for himself.

Vegeta snorted, scowl ever present but something less harsh about it. “Took you long enough to get there.” His tone was lighter, despite the gruff voice. 

Bulma stomped up to them, frowning in displeasure at Vegeta. “Couldn’t you just have told him that nicely, you asshole!” She phrased it like an attack, not a question, and apparently in every universe Trunks’ mother was both protective and brave as hell.

Vegeta didn't break his gaze away from Trunks. “No. It had to come from himself.”

Bulma blinked and murmured something in reluctant agreement, her gaze suddenly much softer. Trunks acknowledged the point silently, rapidly reevaluating the last few minutes and coming to the stunned conclusion that his father had apparently grown a heart in all the years he’d been back in his own timeline. 

“Go get yourself cleaned up, Trunks.” Vegeta’s voice was gruff as ever, but lacking the earlier derision. “We will plan for what to do next after you’ve rested.” 

_Trunks. We._ Trunks felt light-headed at the sudden usage of his own name, something like a pearl from his proud father’s lips; and the phrase ‘we…’ he had come back looking for help, he had been fighting alone as the strongest of them all in his timeline, yes there was Mai and Yajirobe and the Resistance but he was the helm and the strongest and it was lonely and scary and now he was no longer alone...

“Thank you,” Trunks whispered in gratitude, voice breaking. Vegeta fidgeted a little impatiently, looking uncomfortable, and in other circumstances Trunks might have been amused, maybe even found his father’s obvious embarrassment a little endearing.

Goku came up from behind Vegeta soundlessly, and Trunks was cognizant enough to recognize and be touched that the kind-hearted saiyan had been respecting their privacy up until that moment. Unbeknownst to his father, Trunks noted that Goku was looking upon the prince with something that looked like approval and warm fondness. He half-wondered what would happen if Vegeta caught himself to be on the receiving end of that look. 

“Aww, come on Trunks, there’s no need for any of that,” Goku’s cheerfulness broke through the moment (and now it was Trunks’ turn to flinch, despite the obvious difference of his voice in cadence and disposition to Black. Trunks would need to work on that -) “Of course we’re gonna help, we won’t just let this happen in your timeline, you helped ours so much back during Cell! If not for you many of us wouldn’t even be here. Right, Vegeta?” 

And in what Trunks would have considered a suicide move, Goku cheerfully swung one arm around Vegeta, drawing his father close, completely invading his personal space as though Vegeta wouldn’t happily murder him for a lot less.

“Are you expecting me to agree with you, imbecile?” And Trunks watched in stupefied amazement and nothing short of incredulity as Vegeta did not in fact murder Goku for the overt display of familiarity, though he did look supremely annoyed about it. 

_Huh, so some things had really changed._ The Vegeta and father he knew from the Cell Games 17 year ago would not have tolerated this in the slightest. His train of thought was broken as Bulma hefting his sword sheath a bit unwieldingly.

“Here’s your sword, Trunks,” Bulma attempted to toss it back to him. “Don’t know how you carry something so heavy all the time.”

As Trunks fumbled to catch his precious weapon and buckle it over his shoulders, he realised his fingers were badly shaking from frayed emotions. Vegeta evidently noticed this, his ever-present scowl deepening. “Cross your arms, Trunks,” his father instructed. 

Trunks obeyed quickly, knowing his father wasn’t one to waste words. It didn’t stop his fingers from trembling, but to his surprise, it did help him feel steadier. He looked up gratefully at Vegeta, who dismissed it with a nod. “It helps with the shaking.”

“Oh wow,” Goku commented. “That’s why you do that huh Vegeta, neat trick.”

“Shut up, Kakarot, it isn’t a trick, it’s just a habit, and you have plenty worse.”

“Hey, that’s not true! ...Is it?”

“I’ve spent too much time around you against my will to be able to list off at least ten, you clown.”

“Well, name one, then!”

Vegeta shrugged. “You scratch the back of your neck when you’re nervous, idiot. That’s just one of the many bad habits you have.”

“Ooh huh, that’s true!” Goku grinned. “Wait, Vegeta, have you been watching me that closely?”

“How _the fuck_ did you even get to that conclusion, Kakarot-”

Trunks mildly wondered how he’d gone from one of the most tension-filled moments of his life to suddenly bearing witness to this… interesting exchange. As they sniped back and forth with each other with the ease and familiarity of people who knew each other a long time and could tease trigger topics without triggering an apocalypse, like close friends, like vitriolic best buds, like _a married couple,_ Trunks’ amusement and confusion grew in equal measure. He looked to his mother for an explanation. She simply shrugged back _and winked_ , before fussing over Trunks to get a shower and rest and food and things mothers of every timeline apparently fusses over.

(A pang. He missed his late mother, was he bad for taking comfort in her younger alternate self? Trunks didn’t know, but the traumatised child within him wanted to clutch at her, whatever version of his mother she was, and didn’t want to let go.)

Perhaps he should take the lesson Vegeta had been so dysfunctionally trying to teach him about misplaced guilt, and where to shove it.

After all, it seemed his father had written the book on how to spectacularly destroy your life with the monsters of your past, yet had still come out the better for it. As he watched his father finally begin to yell at Goku (who looked far too innocently nonplussed and maybe even pleased for it to be a real argument) Trunks’ sorry, raw, shrivelled little heart felt lighter than it had in a long time.

* * *

**Sample 2: his mother, his mother, his mother**

The second piece of evidence to his theory was directly handed to him in a neatly packaged metaphorical capsule by the past version of his mother. Like with all things involving Bulma, it did not start out as expected, and ended even less so.

“Mom, if you don’t mind,” Trunks said politely, making Bulma pause in her perusal of some schematics for a ki dampener forcefield she had come up with . “Can I ask some things? Given how I last left, a lot of things are still quite confusing for me.”

“Of course Trunks, ask away,” she waved one hand at him carelessly. “I’m not making any headway with these anyway, perhaps you can take a look after we’re done later.”

“Okay, I will!” Trunks doubted he could add much to his mother’s brilliance, even the past version of her, but sometimes he had spotted things she missed. He could at least try. “Well, for one, Father and Goku appear fairly close. How did it happen?”

He meant it platonically, no ulterior motive, just questioning how their friendship had developed from the (mostly one-sided) antagonism of the past to the rather endearing little banter they had now, what with Goku being dead for about seven years as he’d gathered, etc. What he hadn’t expected was for his mother to smirk at him, an expression reminiscent of Vegeta’s sans the utter glee in it. With mirth in her eyes, she said, ‘So you noticed those two lovebirds too, huh? I knew you took after me in my brains. Well done Trunks!”

And Trunks was forced to rapidly reevaluate his choice of conversation.

 _Lovebirds_?

“Uh,” Trunks said, wishing he sounded a little more articulate. “Are we… talking about the same thing here?”

“Oh, so you didn’t notice?” Bulma said, sounding disappointed. “Well this is going to sound super crazy and crash theory and all that, but there’s no saner way for me to say it so…” she paused dramatically. “Chichi - _hoo boy_ this is going to sound crazy, but well - Chichi and I believe,” his mother announced, and Trunks had to smile at his mother’s flair for the dramatic, a trait in every timeline, “that Goku and Vegeta are soulmates.”

....what?

Trunks was in fact, a genius too. He was. He took a moment to think through his answer. Asking ‘What do you mean’ was too vague, because Bulma _knew_ what she said, it was clear she _meant_ what she said. The best he could do was to anticipate and venture a guess.

“Soulmates?” Trunks finally repeated in a careful tone, in lieu of less stupid answer. “...You don’t mean, in a romantic sense?”

“Well, we would like for it to be, honestly,” Bulma stated, rolling her beautiful eyes, and Trunks’ brain promptly went into reboot again. “All the constant flirting they do.”

“...flirting?”

“You know, when they bicker, and constantly try to one-up each other, then one of them looks away and then the other gets this big look of longing on his face. How they’re always taking turns and showing off to each other on the battlefield. How the two knuckleheads are the only ones who really get each other’s crazy line of thinking...”

“Maybe that’s a saiyan thing though, Mom?’

“Ha!” Bulma cackled, making Trunks’ worry rack up a notch, “They’d like to think so. Who knows with those two, saiyans are emotional invalids, I swear.”

“I’m half saiyan too,” Trunks couldn’t resist reminding her. Bulma waved it away. “Yeah, yeah, but you’re half human, and you also have my genes of beauty and intelligence so you’re less dense about feelings, whereas your dad acts like it’s the plague.” 

Trunks felt warm at her casual pride in him but quickly got back to the topic. “Can you explain a little, mom? I kinda feel like I’m missing a lot of things here.” For sure he agreed there was definitely something going on between Goku and Vegeta, he just assumed it was friendship of a very strange kind, some sort of saiyan brotherhood.

“You’re not the only one, those boys are so oblivious they wouldn't know it if it hit them in the face,” Bulma sighed. “Remember all of these are just assumptions, and won’t matter a whit if they don’t realise it themselves.”

So she’d told him the two womens’ point of view and how they’d steadily been collecting snippets of evidence. Trunks listened in fascination and nothing short of incredulity, but to his growing consternation, somehow, it made… sense. 

“But… why are you okay with this, Mom?” Trunks asked carefully. He knew his mother was an open person, but this was an entirely different matter.

“...you know, your father and Goku are destined to outlive us.” There was something sad about Bulma’s smile. “That’s just the truth. I'm not being morbid; We've died how many times now and I've had plenty of time to contemplate my very real mortality. We’ll all be dead and gone while they’re still in their youth - which annoys me, that I’m going to keep looking older while they look like teenagers, bloody hell,” she ranted, and Trunks had to contain a smile at the characteristic rant. 

“Mom,” Trunks prompted gently, trying to bring her back to the topic at hand. “They’ll outlive everyone, so…? You don’t want them to be lonely?”

“Well, Trunks, I know Vegeta will always come back to me and Chibi Trunks, and Goku loves Chichi in his own dysfunctional way. Nothing would change for us physically. Neiher of them would purposely do anything to hurt either of us, in fact I think we'd to kick things up ourselves if we want to see them form something now. At the end when we're all gone, at least they would have eachother.” Bulma grinned wickedly, the sad smile gone. “Plus I’m a sucker for romantic fairytales, and what can be more romantic than two rival turning into best friends and finding out they’re soulmates?!”

She finished with a question: “So, what do you think, Trunks? Think we’re crazy gossiping wives, or our theories are valid?”

“Um,” Trunks stammered. “I need more data to reach a conclusion.” It wasn’t everyday that your mother told you she shipped her husband with his rival who was also her best friend. 

“Spoken like a true scientist,” Bulma looked inordinately pleased, and Trunks felt the same small glow of pride he did whenever in the rare moments he managed to impress his father with his fighting prowess. “Okay, we can collate conclusions at the end.” His mother winked, and only then did Trunks realise what he’d been roped into. This was the unstoppable force that was Bulma Briefs. “To be honest, if I was a guy and I’d met either of them, I’d question my sexuality too.”

 **_“Mom_ ** **!”** was Trunks’ embarrassed response. 

“Hmm? Don't tell me in the future things like this are still outdated,” Bulma asked curiously.

“It’s not that.. I.. just.. Don’t want to think about father and Goku in that way.” Trunks could feel his face reddening. In a way, the reaction surprised him- that he was still able to feel such emotion despite the suffocating numbness that had plagued him since Black’s wanton destruction was refreshing.

“Fair enough,” Bulma conceded, shrugging. “Now, back on these schematics...”

And that had been the end of that conversation, though it was only the start of Trunks looking at Goku and his father in a completely new light.

* * *

  
**Sample 3: the conversation with Goku**

Over the next few days of being around Goku and Vegeta, Trunks became more and more fascinated by how close the saiyan duo had become in the years from their last meeting. Whether they were soulmates, he wasn’t sure , but there was something there for definite. The last time he’d come to the past, he’d been unable to stop staring at his father, as to be expected from a son whose Dad was deceased. In the same vein, he’d been unable to stop staring at Goku too, knowing him as the legend from his mother’s stories. This time round, Trunks thought he would have been a little more jaded, but it was not to be - he was still staring, still secretly watching and taking mental notes, but for completely different reasons.

Goku let out a whoop as the final scoreboard for the game Chibi Trunks had roped them all into playing flashed across the massive display screen. He was sat next to Vegeta on the couch, so close that their elbows and shoulders brushed everytime he moved. Both saiyans were clad in near identical sleeveless tops, Goku in white and Vegeta in black. It was almost adorable, really, the most relaxed he’d ever seen them, and it made Trunks’ heart squeeze something funny everytime he glanced their way. “Man, that was a good game!” Goku laughed, setting down the controller. “Thanks for that, Trunks!”

“Speak for yourself,” Vegeta grumbled, and apparently, his father _played games now_?! Trunks didn’t know who the god of this timeline was, but he would really like to petition for his timeline to have some of this too. “That was utter bullshit and a complete waste of my time.”

Goku stuck out his tongue at the prince, whose face immediately became more stormy than ever. The shift in less than a second was magnificent to watch. “You’re just a sore loser, Vegeta.” 

“Tch, how about we get out here and you let me plant my fists into your face, we’ll see who’s a sore loser then.” Despite the hostile words, Vegeta made no move to shift from where he was comfortably seated beside Goku, lounging in a way that was almost casual and relaxed from his normally uptight and tense posture. 

Goku widened his eyes. “But Vegeta, if I let you do it, it wouldn’t count as losing,” he said innocently. Beside Trunks, Chibi Trunks grinned. “And you’d hate me for throwing a match like that.”

“Screw you, Kakarot -”

“You two shut it,” Beerus snapped, interrupting the bickering that was sure to follow. And okay, Trunks was never ever getting over the fact that this cat-guy was seriously, really, the God of Destruction, and the serene blue whimsical angel one was his attendant, not the other way round. “This game is stupid! Let’s go, Whis!” The console in his hands (paws?) erupted in a split second. Whis let out a quiet, long suffering sigh, and both holy beings left the room, with the remains of Beerus’ console smoking from where he’d destroyed it in his anger at losing. That made it the third console blown up in quick succession. 

It was all rather funny really, because Beerus’ desire to blow up everything that displeased him reminded Trunks of his father in the past. He wondered if anyone else had noticed it.

“He’s never going to be able to win against us, we’re too awesome,” Chibi Trunks whispered at Trunks side cheekily. 

“He won’t,” Trunks agreed, playing along. “Little me is too good.” After the initial shock of finding out the whole backstory of Cell, and that they were the same two people of different timelines, his younger self had wholly embraced the situation with an open-heartedness that was similar to their mother’s. In fact Chibi Trunks seemed to have decided to view Trunks as his long-lost older brother, something that Trunks didn’t see a problem with humoring. 

“Okay then, this time I’m gonna play myself, and I’ll win by a wide margin, just you watch!” Chibi Trunks’ enthusiasm was infectious; Trunks couldn’t help but smile too, something that rarely came easily for him now...

“Do these activities amuse you, then?” Trunks turned to find Vegeta’s dark gaze watching him with a curious frown, one of his milder expressions. Trunks quickly made an effort to maintain his smile, he owed them that much, even though it felt like soldering a circuit board with all the wires in the wrong place. 

“It’s not that,” he said honestly - he’d learnt not to try and bluff Vegeta, and he barely had the energy to function, now. “It’s just, well... it’s been a long time since I’ve had the chance to sit around like this, without a care in the world...” 

Too late Trunks realised how self-pitying that could have sounded and shut his mouth abruptly, fearing reprimand, but Vegeta had no scathing reply, another proof that he had changed. Instead there was a sudden darkness to Vegeta’s eyes and a certain set to his mouth that Trunks couldn’t read. 

Goku seemed to notice too. There was that curiously fond look again, one that only his father seemed to ever be on the receiving end of when the Earth-raised saiyan thought no one was looking. Honestly, it was only because of the talk with his mother, but once Trunks knew what to watch out for, he couldn’t unsee it: all the stolen glances, silent conversations, humoring each other, the little looks of affection…

Goku suddenly turned to Trunks, and Trunks scrambled trying to make it look like he hadn’t just been watching the other man. “Don’t worry, Trunks,” the kind-hearted saiyan said confidently, “after we defeat Goku Black, your future will have peace in it too! I’m going to do a number on him, just you wait!”

The reassuring way he said it, with full confidence, like there was no possibility that they could fail, that they could do this, they could win, even if everyone else had fallen to their demise, made Trunks’ breath catch in his throat. Whatever had taken over Vegeta seemed to have broken its spell as he snipped, “Hey Kakarot, let me make this clear: I’m the one who’s going to defeat this Goku Black!”

Goku - there was no other word for it, he _pouted_ \- at the prince. “Hey,” he protested, “you can’t go deciding that on your own!”

“I damn well can, you idiot,” Vegeta huffed, with significantly less heat and diatribe than Trunks expected. “If he’s wearing your stupid face, using your body for his own ends, then **I’m** going to be the one to punt the living daylights out of him all the way to the other universe, and **you’re** going to stay out of it.”

Goku blinked, then grinned mischievously. Trunks immediately knew he’d want to bear witness to what came next “Aw, Vegeta,” Goku said, his tone teasing as he leaned into Vegeta, and whoa okay Trunks never realised there was a height difference between them until just then, “Are you worried for me? Is that why you’re so annoyed? Because he’s using the me of the future? That really touches me somehow!”

BAM! Goku blocked the predictable fist that aimed for his jaw, laughing loudly. “Kidding, kidding, I’m only teasing- oof!” he wheezed, as a pillow forcefully hit him dead-centre in the stomach. and caused him to slide off slightly. “Aww come on, Vegeta, where’s your sense of fun!”

“It rotted in hell before I was even born,” Vegeta stated as he stood up. Was- was that a flush on his face? Was his father, the proud, stoic prince of all saiyans, actually blushing? Trunks was trying very hard not to stare in fascination. “This conversation is over, Kakarot. Find me when you’re ready to be more mature, which for you means never.”

As the proud figure exited, Trunks looked back at Goku. He was sure the kind-hearted, goofy saiyan was fine -there was more reason to check on the state of the poor pillow, really- but it was an excuse to study the only person Trunks knew who could draw out his father’s silly side, besides his mother, possibly. Not that he was complaining: it really was nice to see the warmer sides of Vegeta’s personality.

Goku looked back at Trunks looking at him, and grinned. “Okay, maybe I went too far, but you kinda gotta rile him up to get him out of his head, sometimes.”

“Get him out of his head…?” Trunks repeated questioningly, replaying the last few minutes.

“Well, maybe it’s just me,” Goku looked serious suddenly, “but I think Vegeta feels bad and responsible when he sees you, ‘cos you’re very like him. You two’ve been through the wringer in many ways.” Kind eyes. Here was the intuitive wisdom behind Goku’s childishness that Trunks’ late mother had often spoken of. “I think Goku Black won’t like what’s coming when Vegeta gets his hands on him.”

“You and father… have gotten close, haven’t you,” Trunks asked, proving that despite being the progeny of a genius heiress and warrior prince, he was still perfectly capable of stating the obvious.

“Hm? I guess you could say so?” Goku scratched the back of his neck. “He's my best friend.”

“Does... he think you’re friends too?” Trunks dared to venture, because of the two, Goku was the least likely to blow him off. 

Goku laughed lightly, as if he knew this as well. “Well, Vegeta doesn't say it in so many words, obviously, but I don't need him to,” he mused. “And with your father, you kinda have to listen and watch for things in between what he says. Which suits me just fine, I’m not all that good with words anyway.”

“I wouldn’t say that, Goku,” Trunks smiled. This was the only man in existence after all who’d turned countless enemies into friends, gods into buddies, and caused his dad to blush, apparently. Trunks was still questioning his eyes on that one.

Goku shrugged. “Anyway, Vegeta isn’t the type to shout about friendship and feelings and all that, can you imagine,” he said with a smile, and there was that fond look again. “If he did, he wouldn’t be our Vegeta. And I don’t want him to be a different Vegeta! Sorry, does that make sense?” Trunks nodded, because it rather did. Accepting someone for who they were, all their faults, all the tragedy they carried, and caring for them anyway. He thought of his late mother, the late Gohan, of Mai. His heart ached.

The look of pride and fondness in Goku’s eyes. Trunks had seen it somewhere before. In Mai's eyes. In his mother's eyes. That was love, pure and simple, proper love, whatever form it took.

Chibi Trunks poked him in the side. Trunks jolted, not realising when the boy had come up to them. “You’re doing that brooding thing Dad does again,” Chibi Trunks said with a frown. “You can have the next turn on the console, if you want?”

Trunks was strangely touched at the uncharacteristically considerate offer. His younger self could be proud, selfish and perhaps slightly spoiled, according to his mother. Truthfully Trunks didn’t see any fault in this, if it meant Chibi Trunks was spared from the atrocities he himself had been forced to witness. 

“That’s okay, thank you. I should head to bed soon,” he ruffled Chibi Trunks hair, for a moment wondering if his mother had survived, could he have had a sibling? “Father might not be happy with me if I wake up late and miss his training.”

Goku stretched and yawned. “Nah, Vegeta won’t, if you really needed the rest. He might act like that, but your dad’s just a big mean softie, really,” His smile turned into something gentler, like he knew something they didn’t. Both Trunks shared a dubious look- softness was not a trait either of them would attribute to Vegeta, but Goku was known for his kind heart and forgiving nature for a reason. “That’s why we all love him.”

Hmm. Interesting. Goku was openly affectionate to anything that moved, but Trunks couldn’t help wondering if there was more to the statement and if even Goku was aware of it yet.

As they said their goodnights, Trunks’ mind whirred, like one of his mother’s machines. Even as dread threatened to submerge him as he thought of facing Black again, a little bit of lightness remained. He was intrigued to see more of this strange interaction between them.

* * *

_Anger was a familiar emotion to Vegeta. It was like an old glove, a well-worn armour, easy to slip on. Anger was his weapon and protection in all his years of serving Frieza, and even in the years after when he'd been lost without a sense of purpose._

_But even the brilliant thunderstorm of gold that characterised super saiyan fury could not compare to the murderous rage that whispered to his soul as he looked into Goku Black's hateful rose-coloured eyes._

_Oh, he'd already been simmering since the moment he'd seen Future Trunks' traumatised, guilt-ridden eyes and figured out that the Bulma of the future had been murdered. The second he'd actually laid eyes on the motherf*cking perpetrator in person, wearing Kakarot's dumb face like a twisted mask, familiar sunlight smile turned into something sadistic, disturbing and **just fucking wrong** , his anger had boiled over to become murderous rage. It was like raking claws down his spine. _

_This rage was quieter. This rage was deadlier. This rage screamed._

_How dare this absolute motherf*cking joke of a God take the purest, dumbest, most naive fool in Vegeta's life only to possess his body and crush his spirit as though he were nothing. As though he wasn't Vegeta's first reason for living again, as though he wasn't the once and forever fiercest rival and friend and something unnamed and one of the only people Vegeta had become ready to die for. Everything that made Kakarot special, all of his heart and courage and compassion and playfulness - **gone,** like he was nothing more than a brief flicker of a moment in time._

_...And this joke of a divine asshole **dared** to walk in Kakarot’s place, wearing his body like nothing more than a powerhouse shell, acting like divinity and goodness was something you were born into, not something you had to work towards; like loyalty and adoration and acquiescence was cheap and easy to get, not something you earned. _

_Vegeta couldn't stand it._

_He wanted to rip that mockery of a divine face into shreds._

_Goku Black's fingers grazed Vegeta's chin, lifting his gaze up so that their eyes met. He looked at the prince with an almost disturbing tenderness, all the while wearing a sadistic version of Kakarot's dumb sunlight smile._

_Vegeta saw red._

* * *

**Sample 4: everything on the battlefield**

_Chapter 26 DBS: facing imminent demise, just the two of us_

_"Alright then Vegeta, have you got a plan?" He could always count on Vegeta, Goku knew it, but maybe this was finally the end, their time to go._

_"What do you think?" Vegeta smirked at him, that arrogant little smirk with just a small hint of self deprecation in it that Goku had come to love. "_ _I'm going to give them hell until I breathe my last. Nothing more, nothing less."_

 _"I see..." They looked up towards the thousand copies of Zamasu facing them grimly, humorously. It forcibly reminding Goku of the time they'd faced Cooler together in what seemed like aeons ago, when Vegeta had once again come to his aid, just like this. Goku grinned._ _"Then let's **both** give them hell together."_

_Despite this likely to be their final stand, Goku felt no regret. This was how it was meant to be, him and Vegeta, in every universe, every timeline, standing at each other’s shoulders, a united front: taking on the world dead set against their existence. There was truly no one else Goku would have wanted more at his side in his final moments, both of them going down in a brilliant flare of ki and defiance, _fighting fiercely to the bitter end_. _

_Even so... to face the enemy whose face and body was half of his own..."I never thought it would end like this..." Goku confessed with a rueful smile._

_Vegeta scoffed, careless smirk still lingering, with a touch of something fond. Goku knew him too well by now, he could see every emotion in those dark eyes. "After the huge pain in the ass you've been to me all my life, at least I'll get to see you die... that's enough for me."_

_Goku only grinned back, hearing the unsaid and letting the words slide off like so much white noise._ _"You sure know how to make a guy feel loved, Vegeta."_

 _Once upon a time Goku might have been confused, maybe even half-offended by those cutting words. But_ _he'd gotten good at reading Vegeta’s little tells over the years, a trait fusion had only amplified._ _Now, after what felt like a lifetime fighting alongside Vegeta, to the point that he could no longer remember clearly what it was like before; learning his tells, learning the meaning behind every indrawn breath, sometimes thinking so eerily similar as though their heartbeats aligned,_ _it was easy to hear the unspoken behind the spoken._

_**If this is where we fall, there's no one else I'd rather go down fighting with, Kakarot.** _

_That prickly mask only served to amplify how much he admired the intensity of the heart beneath. The affection and trust between them had been firmly rooted, though Vegeta would literally go to his dying breath refusing to name it. That was just who the prince was, and Goku didn't want him any other way._

For a race that Bulma had declared “a bunch of emotional invalids”, Trunks had to say, much of their strength came from the power of their emotions.

In their multiple face-offs against Goku Black and Zamasu, he’d watched in fascination Goku and Vegeta fight for and protect each other multiple times over the entire course of the battle. He’d watch them _fuse_ , for goodness sake (apparently not for the first time?! His father had actually blushed, so Trunks really had to dig out this story if they somehow made it out alive) and if fusion wasn't half an innuendo on its own, Trunks would be half a namek.

More seriously, Trunks had also watched in incredulity and fondness as the two headstrong saiyans adamantly insisted on taking turns to face the enemy, begrudgingly being fair and respecting the other’s turn. The way they easily caught onto eachother’s tactics, admiring from afar in a dynsfunctional way, taking pride in the other’s speed or adaptability on the battlefield like it was a personal achievement. It was comical, really, if the situation wasn’t so serious: how these two complete titans on the battlefield bantered and interacted like children who were particularly enamoured with each other. If Trunks had had the presence of mind, he would have been busy documenting and cataloguing everything he observed. As it was, all he caught were snippets.

\------------------------

They'd barely made it out of the first battle alive, and were then hiding out in the underground Resistance base, ensuring the place was well protected before jumping back into the heat of battle. Trunks finished with sealing the last pipe of that particular area and looked around, only just managing to catch the tail end of Vegeta checking unconscious form of Goku for damage. 

Trunks winced; Goku's slumped-over posture against the wall was a neck cramp waiting to happen.

Evidently Vegeta must have had similar thoughts. Trunks watched in quiet amazement as his father visibly hesitated, before bringing up his gloved fingers to Goku’s temple and jaw, gently tilting his head into a more comfortable position. From anyone else it would have been nothing remarkable, but from someone as emotionally constipated and harsh as his father, it was an oddly sweet gesture.

“I can’t take you anywhere, Kakarot,” Vegeta muttered in a low growl, as if Goku could hear him. His gloved fingers still brushed against the younger saiyan’s form, lingering a little longer than necessary against the bruise on his temple. “I can’t believe I have an idiot like you as my rival sometimes. Passing out like a little child…”

His tone was irritated, but Trunks could hear the underlying worry. More so, he could sense some of his father’s ki flowing into Goku, and understood that his father was sharing some of his life energy to the other man in an effort to mitigate the worst of his injuries. The exchange of energy felt warm, caring, protective, even tender, none of which showed on the expression Vegeta wore. His father was such a contradictory man.

Even so, this was a far cry from the cruelly smirking Vegeta he’d seen years ago that had ‘saved’ Goku who had then been severely weakened from a heart attack by viciously kicking him towards Piccolo as they faced off against Android 19. His father had clearly changed, both in his temperament and his attitude towards Goku between the years, and Trunks was curious as to how.

“How did you and Goku become so close, father?” Trunks blurted out, before realising what he’d said, the utter inappropriateness of his timing. Vegeta’s head whipped around immediately with a glare and a flush that accompanied it, clearly not realising he’d had an audience. Whoops. Well, Trunks was feeling extra-suicidal that day; if they were all going to die anyway by the time dusk fell, he was going in a dead man with his curiosity satisfied.

Vegeta scowled more fiercely at him. Trunks wondered if he could ever tell his father that the constant exposure to that expression had made it somewhat endearing rather than scary, just as Goku and Bulma had clearly found. “You’re being very brave today, Trunks.”

Trunks laughed weakly, attempting a morbid joke. “Well, I’m curious, father… if I’m about to die, I might as well ask.”

“We will not die here,” Vegeta stated harshly, the conviction in his voice setting fires in the dim-lit tunnel. “ **You** will not die here, Trunks. You keep going until it's time for you to go, do you understand? Your mother is waiting for us.”

“Father…” Trunks looked away. The miasma of guilt he’d been holding at bay suddenly bubbled up, threatening to eat him alive before Zamasu found him. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered. “I never should have come to the past and gotten you and Goku involved…”

“Trunks. Look at me.” There was no arguing that commanding tone in Vegeta’s voice, so Trunks reluctantly looked up. “Trunks. Think about some of the things that only were able to exist in our timeline because of your interference. Think **honestly** , as an outside observer, with no bias.” Vegeta demanded. “Then look me in the eyes, and tell me that you didn’t think it was worth it.”

For the first time in his life, Trunks truly thought it over. His mother, alive, vibrant, younger, with less worry in her eyes. Eighteen marrying Krillin and having Marron, proving her humanity despite the cruelty of her alternate timeline counterpart. The existence of Goten, Goku’s miniature and second son?! The Gohan of Trunks’ timeline had mentioned wanting a younger brother and that Trunks was the younger sibling he’d never had. He’d also mentioned wanting to be a scholar in a different life, and maybe having his own children, starting a family. Gohan of the past who survived what his timeline's Gohan did not, had managed to fulfil life as a scholar, as his timeline's Gohan had dreamt of becoming. And even his own child… Pan’s little giggles… 

Even right down to the way Vegeta was still protectively hovering over Goku, the bond between the two saiyans clearly having developed into something unnamed as of yet, was made possible, even if indirectly, due to Trunks’ interference.

Finally, Trunks shook his head. “It was worth it, every bit of it. I don’t regret the first time I came back. But...” he whispered, knowing Vegeta was showing him legendary levels of patience by not snapping at him to show more pride at that moment. “...I regret **this** time, Father. I never should have come to you, and involved all of you. Now neither of our timelines are safe.”

Vegeta looked like he was working up to something at that moment. This was probably the emotionally constipated face his mother had mentioned in jest a couple of times, Trunks thought distantly, then immediately felt sorry for thinking something so incongruous to the present situation. “Trunks, I’m only going to say this once, so listen carefully.” The abrasive tone was there, but his father’s eyes said something else. “You made the best decision you could have made with the information you had at the time. You didn’t come to us to run away, like a coward. You asked for our help so you could continue fighting and save your own timeline. That’s the best any warrior can do.” Vegeta paused for a moment, as if he was choking on something, before letting out in a rush. “I’m proud of you.”

Trunks stared at his father. He hadn’t realised how much he wanted to hear those words from his father; how much of a balm it was to hear from someone he looked up to so highly. “Father…” **You’ve changed so much...**

Suddenly Goku, who had been silent up until that point, let out a hacking cough, sounding like he was choking on his own blood. Trunks caught the split second in which his father’s eyes widened in alarm before the prince moved in a flash, tipping the other saiyan’s head back and manhandling his body into a more comfortable position. Trunks moved to help, but his father gestured sharply at him to stay in place.

“Come on, Kakarot, you did **not** survive getting mauled by a fucking copycat wannabee version of yourself **just** so you could end up dying by choking on your own blood,” Vegeta growled, as he rubbed half-circles into Goku’s back. Trunks hovered by uncertainly, wanting to assist but not wanting to cause more damage. He didn’t speak for fear of causing more confusion to Goku’s possibly addled mental state.

To Trunks’ relief, Goku’s cough slowly subsided, and the saiyan half-opened his eyes. “...’geta?” Goku rasped, his voice searching, the low tone a stark contrast to his usual higher notes.

“Who else, Kakarot.” Vegeta seemed to sag a little in relief. His father wasn’t being very careful with his tells today.

“What… happened…” Goku rasped again, sounding pained. Clearly his injuries were still healing; Zamasu’s blade must have had something that dealt more damage to a mortal body.

Vegeta had once again placed his gloved hands against Goku’s temple, this time a lot more gingerly. Trunks sat back as he sensed the earlier warm exchange of ki begin again and realised his help was not needed. He was content to simply watch this dialogue between them play out. “You got stabbed by Zamasu, that’s what, and he took all our Senzu beans,” his father said to Goku in a clipped tone. “As always, you get yourself into these stupid messes, and I’m the one who has to go saving your sorry little ass.”

The corner of Goku’s mouth lifted in a shadow of his usual grin. “...wouldn’t have… anyone else…”

“Really, Kakarot? **That’s** what you have to say for yourself?” Vegeta snorted. “How about you try not getting yourself into these messes in the first place, then there wouldn’t be any saving necessary, and I wouldn’t have to trouble myself so much.”

“...ahah… Bulma and Chichi would be happier with us, then… thanks, ‘Geta…” Goku murmured, probably drowsy from the warm ki and already fading out again. “..’ll… make it up to you…”

Trunks watched Vegeta watching Goku as his eyes slipped closed, absently brushing aside the younger saiyan's mess of bangs as if his father had forgotten there was someone else there. “Idiot,” Vegeta murmured, and from another person, that tone might have been a weary sort of fondness. “Always the bane of my existence...”

“Why do you spend so much time with him if you find him so annoying?” Trunks dared to ask.

Vegeta glanced up at him, as if only remembering he was there. Trunks half-expected the same hostile reaction as earlier, but his father seemed weary instead. Perhaps, in this strange, dim space where their fates hung in the precipice between life and death, where their inhibitions were lowered, where Trunks had shown his vulnerability; perhaps Vegeta could allow and Trunks could earn a modicum of truth. 

“He’s a naively pure, mind-numbing idiot. Everything he does irritates and spites me,” Vegeta stated abruptly.

Well, guess not all inhibitions were gone. Trunks resisted the urge to roll his eyes like his mother would have, having heard his father utter these same words in the earlier curbstomp of Goku Black. 

“But…?” Trunks prompted. He was walking over so many lines today, what the hell, may as well make a day of it. “ You’re not the type of person to spend time around someone if you don’t want to, Father.”

“You presume to know me well, Trunks.” Trunks winced, hoping he didn’t cross the line too far. To his amazement, Vegeta continued hesitantly. “But… if you must know... he and your mother are alike in that they have the same capacity and heart for forgiveness. The same with you and your younger self. It is a trait I do not share, nor do I wish to, but nevertheless have come to respect.”

“So… you’re saying… you can tolerate Goku’s company because… he and mom are similar?” Trunks asked carefully, fairly sure that was not it, but trying not to extrapolate anymore beyond the words his father stated.

“ **Trunks**. This is why I do not like to talk, words are so easily misinterpreted.” Vegeta grumbled.

“No, Kakarot’s foolishness and simplicity irritate me to no end, but he has **some** redeeming qualities, meagre though as they are. As does your mother.” Vegeta’s gaze grew distant, and somehow Trunks had the sense that his father wasn’t exactly with him at that moment. “I have done nothing to earn them, but I will do everything I can to deserve them.”

Trunks stayed silent. He recognized that Vegeta had just given him a very precious gift: the gift of openness and honesty, something that came really hard to his tough hardass father. He would not do it disservice with empty words or platitudes. 

The hope in Trunks’ chest burned anew. He would survive Zamasu and Goku Black, he would make sure they all survived, if nothing else so that he could have more of these moments and ensure his younger self would too.

\-----------------------

Several battles that felt like lifetimes later, Vegeta roared and struck out at the fused Zamasu’s maligned form in a reaction of utter rage and heartbreak that would have been very familiar, had Trunks not been too **dead** to see it last time. It was a magnificent display of explosive power, and Trunks understood more than ever why his father had been called the Prince of Destruction once upon a time. 

It touched Trunks that his presumed death had been the source of that mindless rage, as it had been with Cell. Unfortunately, the attack predictably did not finish off the insane Zamasu once and for all, though it came close. Trunks activated the ki dampener field in order to hide their presence and buy them a little bit of precious time to catch their breaths, while drawing the unconscious Mai closer to his body.

The sound of Goku shouting made Trunks jump - it was one of the rare times Trunks had ever seen the usually-mild mannered saiyan yell at a friend. “Vegeta! What are you thinking using that attack in your current state?!”

As Vegeta’s knees gave out and his red hair faded to black, pushed to damaging exhaustion from using two limit-breaker states in quick succession, Goku had swooped in to catch him. The protective way he supported the prince promised hellfire to anyone who dared to step there. 

“Shut up, Kakarot, don’t you dare lecture me about thinking,” Vegeta had the presence of mind to grumble up at him, though Trunks noted his father looked dazed and his gaze unfocused. 

“Shh, Vegeta, try not to talk…” Goku hushed as he set the prince down gently, mindful not to jostle any visibly bad injuries. The kind -hearted saiyan had clearly chosen to set aside his anger in lieu of providing some comfort. “You’ve got to conserve your energy... we don’t have any Senzus left, and Trunks is too drained to heal any of us now.”

Vegeta’s unfocused dark eyes briefly found Trunks’. His father’s guard was clearly down from his weakened state, as his eyes showed clear relief. “Trunks… you’re alive…”

“Thanks to you,” Goku told him softly, and if Trunks wasn’t witnessing it himself he wouldn’t have thought the normally exuberant Goku could sound that gentle. “That was real risky though, Vegeta.”

“Don’t... coddle me… Kakarot...”

Goku gently adjusted his hold on Vegeta as the weakened prince faded out, using the very same hands that moments ago had smashed Zamasu’s sternum and broken his ribs. “I’ve got you,” Goku said, voice soft, seemingly more to himself than to anyone else. The tender way he cradled Vegeta’s body was similar to how Trunks was holding Mai at that very second. Trunks looked away, feeling like he was invading the privacy of a particularly intimate moment. 

“Father…” Trunks hesitated, unsure if it was his place to say. “Father asked me to heal you over him, because... he said he trusted you to finish off Zamasu.”

Goku looked both stunned and impossibly, even softer. “...he said that?... Vegeta...” In a moment, his gaze hardened.

“Trunks,” Goku’s voice had that edge of steel in it, the one that made Trunks shiver and forcibly reminded him that as gentle natured as Son Goku acted , he was still the first legendary super saiyan in over a hundred aeons to come into existence. “Take care of your father... he’s done enough. It’s my turn now -I’m going to fight Zamasu and _I'm going to win_.”

* * *

**Sample 5: that moment on Capsule Corp’s balcony**

As he savoured a juicy piece of steak after what felt like long years of being at war with only canned food as sustenance, Trunks reflected that still couldn’t get used to the luxury of all this food, even as the saiyan side of him eagerly roared its appetite. In the aftermath of Zamasu’s defeat, the atmosphere of the celebratory dinner on the rooftop of Capsule Corp was flooded with happiness and relief.

To him however, the victory felt almost hollow, when everyone and everything in his timeline was now dead and gone, vanished into worse than oblivion by Zeno. He had still failed them all. Trunks choked, reminding himself to breathe. His father, Goku, everyone had done everything they could to help him and Mai. He would not dishonour their effort and willingness to die with his brooding and guilt.

At least, Trunks thought -- with a flicker of guilt at his own selfishness -- at least Mai was still alive and with him.

 _They looked up at where Zamasu and Goku Black was pontificating to thin air, as if his audience were not a dead world he had ravaged himself. ‘Trunks, you are to stay with the time machine. If we fall against Black,’ his father said calmly, a silent acknowledgment that failure was a possibility and Trunks was never going to get over how much his father had changed, ‘’at least you can survive by escaping into the past, and build your own future with your girlfriend_ .’ 

_Trunks sputtered, that was not what he’d been expecting at all. Beside the prince, Goku looked startled and amused all at once. ‘I'm kinda shocked Vegeta would be the first one to say it, but he's right,’ the larger saiyan agreed, grinning at Trunks. ‘Plus she is pretty cute.’_

Trunks’ face was burnt at the memory. Vegeta had been the first one to call it, but everyone else seemed to have already assumed the same thing. In the lighter atmosphere of the party Bulma had kicked the soft teasing of his and Mai’s relationship up to eleven. Even in this timeline, it seemed his mother was determined to matchmake him, a thought that made him both smile and ache at the same time.

There was only so much teasing he could handle, though, not when he and Mai hadn’t yet defined this thing between them. Trunks looked up to where Goku and Vegeta were sitting right next to each other, a little closer than the rest of the group, shoulders brushing and elbows rubbing as they both devoured their food with speed that would have alarmed any onlooker unused to hanging around saiyans. Being on the receiving end of unwelcome teasing himself was the only reason Trunks too hadn’t started ribbing the two or plotting to bring them together (that and the fact that it was likely Vegeta would literally blast everyone within a 3m radius to smithereens out of sheer mortification by accident. Trunks didn’t put it past his father to do that no matter how much he’d changed.) If he wanted to be petty, though, he would have plenty of cannon fodder to use.

To be fair, they’d probably say that about him and Mai too. Watching the younger version of himself being shy around the younger version of Mai, as Goten laughed in the background, Trunks allowed himself a small smile. It was miraculous, really that he was now able to think about all these lighter matters, when weeks ago Black was everything that consumed his mind. Trunks swallowed the taste of ash in his mouth and reminded himself to be grateful.

Trunks’ thoughts were interrupted by the small figure of Goten leaning across the table towards their fathers. “Uncle Vegeta, I have a question,” Goku’s youngest chirped, and some at the table paused in their conversations to listen in. 

“What is it?” the prince grunted, looking annoyed that his methodical destruction of the banquet, neater than Goku’s own trail, had been interrupted.

“How do saiyans tell someone they like that they like them?” Goten asked, oblivious to Trunks’ younger counterpart poking him in the ribs. “As in, **‘like’** like them, not just like them.”

Trunks watched as Vegeta visibly restrained himself from snapping; changed as he might, his father had very low tolerance for what he considered to be inane questions. “They don’t, Goten, they just fight,” the prince said dismissively as he took a sip of water.

Goten’s eyebrows wrinkled in innocent confusion, and Chichi reached out to pat his head lovingly. It was this expression that Trunks would forever remember as the boy next said: “But you and dad fight all the time, does that mean you like each other?”

There was a beat of silence as the words registered. Vegeta sputtered over his drink. Then Bulma started cackling loudly, triggering others to join her, while Goku only looked confusedly at his youngest son, their expressions matching at that moment. 

“What- what -” Vegeta broke off coughing, unable to speak more. Bulma slapped him on the back, grinning at Goten. 

“I spend months dancing around the topic and he just gives it to them like that,” she crowed. “Your son is a savage, Goku!”

“I… don’t really understand what’s going on here,” Goku said. He looked utterly bewildered, the poor man. “What’s so funny? Of course I like Vegeta, Goten.”

This time, Trunks was surprised to hear his own helpless laughter joining the fray. Vegeta groaned and glared at the other saiyan, having finally recovered from his earlier choking. “You’re making this worse, Kakarot, shut up," the prince hissed.

Mai had a small, amused smile on her face as she watched their antics. Her smile was something Trunks rarely saw and thus treasured every time he caught sight of it. It took his breath away, how pretty she was.

“But Vegeta, I really don’t get it what the big deal is? Don’t you like me too, at least, a little bit?” 

It was a real treat to watch the myriad of emotions that flickered like fireflies on Vegeta’s face. Trunks was impressed, he didn’t think his father had that much of an emotional range.

“Kakarot-”

“Do you think we should save your dad before this gets even more awkward for him?” Mai whispered to Trunks.

Trunks decided to take pity on his father and attempted to divert the topic, to Bulma’s visible consternation. “Father, could we please have one last spar before I leave tomorrow?” he asked loudly. Whoops, now everyone in attendance - save the still-confused Goku and the irate Vegeta - looked annoyed with him. Well, it couldn’t be helped.

Vegeta smirked at him, looking slightly relieved at the change in topic. “As if I’d let you go without whipping you into shape first, Trunks.”

“Hey, I’d like to try out against you too, Trunks!” Goku beamed at them both, earlier confusion easily dismissed (was it on purpose? Trunks really couldn’t tell, with this man.) “You’ve really grown a lot stronger in the time you’ve been here, Trunks!”

“Dad, can I join too?” Chibi Trunks asked excitedly. “I want to know how I’d do against Big-Me!” 

“Oooh, I want to come too!” Goten exclaimed immediately.

Vegeta grunted at them all, humoring them for once. Perhaps because it was likely Trunks’ final quality time with him, his father was more amiable. “Gravity chamber, 8am tomorrow. Be late and I’ll lock you out.” It was his territory and turf, after all.

“ **Saiyans** ,” Bulma grumbled. “Always fighting over anything… just when things were about to get interesting…”

Trunks smiled at her. Knowing his mother, she would have her way and force them into a confrontation, sooner or later.

As he and Mai bade them all goodbye the next day, in what would be their final farewell, Trunks felt a pang of bitter relief and sweet sorrow. Relief because the ordeal that had made him seek them out in the first place was over. Sorrow because this was goodbye, he had no more reason to stay. Despite knowing he was welcome to stay, Trunks knew that to stay where he didn't belong would only end up bringing more pain to everyone involved. The clear blue sky was reminiscent of the day he had left last time, and this time, he really thought that he would not return again. Perhaps he would one day meet them in the afterlife, if different timelines had the same one.

Trunks looked over to his beautiful mother, wishing her a much happier life than his own late one had had. 

His gaze swivelled over where his father and Goku were standing closely together, each bading him goodbye in their own way. Trunks felt the fondness in his heart multiply, somewhat impossibly. In the end, the amount of time he’d spent around them was barely enough to scratch the surface of the sheer complexity that was Goku and Vegeta’s relationship. The two of them were really like nothing else he'd ever encountered. Trunks could easily visualise them in every universe, every timeline, standing at each other’s shoulders, a united front; fighting together back to back, steeped in magnificent power, wielding strength both in body and spirit only matched by the other .

Trunks hoped, hoped from the bottom of his healing ravaged little heart that they would give themselves the chance to explore whatever they had between them. 

Hope was, after all, the only thing that had kept him alive up until that point.

“Goodbye everyone… and good luck, wherever you land next…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *The first piece of art is by mattari_illust on Twitter. Check her page out!  
> Also, if you wanted a soundtrack that I believe fits Future Trunks very well, try Flyleaf- Arise.
> 
> I meant to write a Piccolo POV chapter, but after a draft realised that it made more sense for what I planned for the timeline of this story for Future Trunks to appear first. Sorry to those of you waiting. But Future Trunks is a really interesting and pivotal character- think about it, if he hadn’t come into their timeline, Goku would be dead of a heart attack, Goten would have never been born, Gohan could have never met Videl and had Pan, Vegeta would have died still with a corrupted hear of evil, Krillin and Eighteen’s love story would have never borne Marron… etc. Put in that way Trunks is a real hero. 
> 
> Honestly, I really struggled with this chapter, and not sure how I like the outcome. It took a lot of creative liberties shrouding real scenes from the anime and manga with my own scenes. Hope it flows well... I was so close to scrapping it but liked some bits enough to want it read by someone. I worry that I write Goku too flat, Vegeta too one-dimensional, Bulma too easy going/ sassy, and Trunks too... wrong. I would love to hear your thoughts.
> 
> Throwaway question: if Vegeta and Goku had patronuses, what would be the form they take? Maybe future AU fic?


	6. Eighteen plays her cards

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eighteen and Goten make an unlikely matchmaking duo.  
> Goten wants to help, like his Dad would have.  
> Eighteen would like some popcorn, please.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! I'm still alive. Eighteen's chapter is up. This chapter took a long time to write because I wanted to get it right. and I've been grieving the loss of someone dear. :' but I've channeled that into writing. yay.  
> Some Important things:
> 
> 1\. You may want to go back and read Chapter 2 of this fic, as it makes several references to that chapter. Also, the events in this chapter are loosely tied to my first fic, Breathe; and my sad fic Never Forget You; but it isn’t a NEED to read, more like a nice read to connect events. :)  
> 2\. Eighteen is a harrdddddd character to write. To balance between her cool exterior, her sharp observation skills, her dry humour, her natural curiosity when interested in something (remember when she activated Android 16 just for the hell of it?) and her obvious love/softness for her family is no easy feat. I hope I did her justice. PS did you know her real name is Lazuli? because of her eyes.  
> 3\. Someone (Agent_38_Scribs, I love you!) requested for me to give Goten more character than both Super and GT gave him. This is my attempt. Please no hurt me I am soft scared bunny.  
> 4\. There is a very famous meme of Vegeta constantly having an injury on his left arm in every major fight. I am making full use of it in this chapter, running away to elope with it, and abusing it to my heart's content. XD

Krillin laughed a little embarrassedly from his place on the floor. “Well, it’s not like I was expecting anything different, but it’s still a bit embarrassing somehow to lose to your wife,” he mumbled sheepishly. “Good game, Eighteen!”

Eighteen smiled down upon her adorable little husband, and yes she did mean those adjectives in every sense of the word. “Good game yourself, babe.” Her smile turned softer as Marron cheered and ran up to him, babbling about how cool her dad was and how fun their match had been to watch.

“Good going, Krillin!” The orange-clad figure that was Goku came over to help her husband up. “You put up a good fight.”

It was strange really, Eighteen reflected as she watched Goku and her husband fist bump, given that she’d been literally rebirthed and reprogrammed with the sole purpose of killing this man, that she would be standing years later as the wife of one of his best friends. What was it about Son Goku that drew people like moths to light and turned enemies into friends? Whatever it was, she’d stopped questioning her place long ago, and was well and truly integrated within this circle of misfit warriors now.

“You don’t have to say things to make me feel better, Goku,” Krillin commented with a smile as he accepted the hand up. “I know when I’m outclassed.”

“Eh, no, your skill and speed has really improved from the Tournament.” Goku said earnestly. He then looked towards Eighteen with a cheerful grin. “My turn against you next, Eighteen!”

“I’ll pass, thanks.” Eighteen said coolly. Watching the saiyan’s face drop in disappointment, she attempted to modulate her tone. Dr Gero’s cybernetic work had left her voice constantly flat like a robot’s, something which she hated, but it had become part of who she was now. “Marron has had enough excitement for the day, and we need to go and put her to bed shortly.” 

Eighteen knew the elaboration was useless - she was fairly sure Goku didn’t understand much of the discipline side of parenting; he was probably the kind of parent who snuck his children out of punishment or gave them extra candy under the table - but something about the saiyan’s upset puppy expression made her want to give him a pat. That was the Goku effect Krillin sometimes laughed about, she supposed.

“Aww, okay,” Goku said, voice disappointed. He brightened suddenly as he looked at something over Eighteen’s shoulder. “Hey Vegeta! Are _you_ still up for a spar? Round two?”

Behind her, Vegeta huffed. “As if you had to ask, clown,” said the arrogant man she had crushed with vindictive pleasure in their first fight, and now considered a friend in a loose sense of the word. “I relish every opportunity to bash your face into the ground.” Despite the harsh words, his expression was relaxed, and there was an almost playful smirk on his face. 

Goku grinned playfully back, eyes bright with a different kind of light. “We’ll see about who will be bashing who, Vegeta!”

Aww, weren’t they cute, flirting like little schoolchildren. Eighteen glanced between the two of them coolly. While her opinion on Goku was somewhat mollified by Krillin’s constant chatter about him to have become something close to friends, her thoughts on Vegeta were still unformed. From her friendship with the women both men called their wives, as well her brain’s access to the Red Army’s old database of information ( _old ghosts and wires she preferred to avoid connecting... but they came in useful sometimes_ ), she’d learnt enough of the Z-fighters’ history to make some unsettling connections. 

For instance, the understanding that she and Vegeta were pretty similar in some ways. Both of bloody pasts, both turned into something destructive against their will. Both out to kill Goku for their own preprogrammed, misguided reasons. Both converted and married to the man’s best friends, hearts softened by their respective children. Both now viewed the saiyan as a friend, and an extension of their family somewhat. Perhaps that was why she and Vegeta could not get along.

“Let’s go find somewhere a bit further so we can really cut it loose,” Goku was saying. Eighteen watched with interest as he put two fingers to his forehead and extended his other hand towards Vegeta, as she had the first time they’d appeared in the midst of a fight with their hands linked together. Of course, there was such a thing as platonic hand holding, and Eighteen was enough parts human to know that different cultures read physical touch differently. 

But she was also enough parts human to ship two dumb saiyans. 

Vegeta appeared to be deliberating where to put his hand before pulling it back and scowling. “I can get there on my own,” he snapped, “I don’t need you to transport us there!” 

Goku’s expression went through a series of contortions before settling on fond exasperation. “Harsh…” he mumbled, withdrawing his palm.

Eighteen stifled the urge to either roll her eyes or snicker. It was cute really, if it wasn’t so painful to watch, this whole banter-slash-flirting thing they did in plain sight, both men too dumb to even realise it yet.

Yes, Eighteen did mean, ‘flirting.’ Yes, she was talking about these two dumb saiyans who always seemed to be the central point of any conflict that threatened Earth.

Just because she was a modified human with a muted ability to feel emotions didn't mean she couldn't read others like a book, human or otherwise. In fact Eighteen would coolly argue that because she was less clouded by emotions than the standard human, she was able to see things more objectively, and detect beyond what lay on the surface. 

And as far as she could tell, there was definitely a lot going under the surface with those two. 

Some sort of unresolved attraction had become apparent to her from the moment she’d watched from the stands as they clashed at the tournament before the whole Majin Buu fiasco took place. At that point in time she couldn’t care less about either, just wanted to get her family the hell away to safety. But between then and now, she had borne witness to enough suggestive, tension-laden interactions between the two saiyans that she sometimes wanted to hiss for them to just kiss already.

However, while her moral compass was fairly flexible, she respected Chichi and Bulma enough not to play matchmaker, at least until she’d breached the topic with them. Both women had done a lot to be there for her during her pregnancy: Bulma with her wealth of resources and scientific knowledge, and Chichi with her motherly, nurturing ways . But - well. It was Eighteen’s right to ship whoever she wanted within the privacy of her mind, and ship these two knucklehead saiyans, she did.

Goku’s mini look-alike son jumped up and down in the clearing. “Dad, wait, wait! First you gotta show us that kata you promised from the other day!” The boy protested. Beside him, Trunks enthusiastically voiced his agreement. “Yeah, Goku, you promised!”

Both boys’ energy appeared to get more manic as the evening wore on. The funny thing was that Eighteen’s own daughter could more than match their penchant for mischief if allowed, which was why the three children got along together like houses on fire and probably caused several, too.

“Oh, right!” Goku laughed, earlier extended hand now rubbing the back of his neck in discomfort. He glanced at Vegeta a bit uncomfortably, and Eighteen found herself extremely interested in the proceedings. “Um, Vegeta, you don’t mind me showing them, do you?” the usually carefree Saiyan asked. “The boys saw me practicing earlier…”

Vegeta tilted his head towards the other man. To Eighteen, Goku looked uncharacteristically nervous. “...Do as you like. They’re saiyan. It’s their kata too.” he paused. “Just as it’s yours.”

Goku’s whole face seemed to come alive, brightening up in an answering smile with those words. Like there was more meaning in the conversation than what was uttered. Eighteen was dying with curiosity to understand what it was.

“Kata?” Krillin asked interestedly from beside them. “Saiyans have katas?”

Vegeta looked turned to face him with narrowed eyes. “Of course, we’re a warrior race. Stating the obvious, Krillin.” 

Angry, Eighteen opened her mouth in fierce protectiveness, ready to defend her husband, but Krillin just shrugged it off. “Oh geez, you don’t have to be so snappish, Vegeta. It’s just a surprise, I’ve never heard either of you mention it before. Don’t have to be so uptight about it.” As Vegeta rolled his eyes and crossed his arms, Krillin chuckled at him without fear, in a manner strikingly similar to Goku’s. 

Krillin’s ease around the bad-tempered asshole was something Eighteen found jarring at first but had gotten used to now. During their initial days of dating, Krillin had always been slightly afraid of Vegeta. When she’d asked him why, he explained that on Planet Namek where the ex-monk had died the second time in a painful explosion of his insides at Frieza’s hand (it still made Eighteen livid to think about it), he’d seen Vegeta’s penchant towards cruelty and ruthlessness. Vegeta and Frieza had been scarily similar in some vicious ways, an observation Krillin made to her that they were both sure the prince would never ever want to hear. According to Krillin, though, since marrying Eighteen and being privy to the warmth and loving heart under the icy exterior, he’d found himself less and less afraid of the saiyan prince and more understanding of why the guy acted in certain ways. In his own words, it was like being with Eighteen helped him understand people better. 

Eighteen didn’t appreciate the comparison between her and the haughty prince, but it was sweet how Krillin thought of her as his guideline, his classroom, his north star.

Watching Vegeta literally blow himself up to defeat Majin Buu a couple of years ago eliminated all remaining wariness, and Krillin had come back from that cursing Vegeta’s name a mile a minute and absolutely certain of where his allegiances lay. When she’d been skeptical, he’d said in his careful way that just like Eighteen, like Seventeen, maybe they were all three too cynical to want to fight on the side of the good for the sake of good itself, but they would protect those they cared for at all costs.

And at those words Eighteen hadn't been able to help falling in love with her husband all over again. Her babe was the coolest man ever, with a big heart to match. She’d take him over these bonehead saiyans any day.

“Yeah… Vegeta just taught it to me some time ago,” Goku was explaining about the kata, scratching the back of his neck. “But I...haven’t perfected it…”

Eighteen didn’t see the point of this reasoning, and said as much. “Well, it’s not like any of us would know if you messed it up,” she interjected indifferently. “Literally **only** you two know it.”

Which was kind of sad, actually, in a way: it reinforced that these two were eternal visitors with no home. Or at least one of them was. Eighteen’s cold little heart twinged a bit as she met Vegeta’s withering glare full on. She supposed she deserved that, to be fair. 

“Yeah, well…” Goku glanced at the prince again a little uncomfortably, “well, I wasn’t sure if it was okay to share with everyone.” If Vegeta was okay to share with everyone, was the clear implication.

Aww, how adorable. If Eighteen read into that, Goku was respecting Vegeta’s privacy and trying to keep it between the two of them. Unusually tactful for him, but she’d noticed he was always a little different with Vegeta.

“Can you show us the kata?” Gohan asked interestedly as the two younger saiyan boys needled their fathers alomgside. He’d wandered within hearing range of the conversation at some point. 

Vegeta shrugged, looking slightly unsettled at the attention. “Kakarot can show you.” 

“What? No!” Goku protested. “We can show them the two warrior kata!”

Eighteen’s interest was piqued. _Two warrior kata?_

Vegeta scowled. “No, Kakarot, you’re the one who promised - I am not having any part in this.” 

“Vegeta, come on, please!” Goku whined, his face going into that little pleading pout Eighteen had seen on a couple of occasions. Interestingly, Vegeta’s face did something complicated seeing the other’s kicked puppy expression. “Like Eighteen said, we’re the only ones who know how to do it…We can share something of ours with them…”

“And like I said, _you_ can do it -you’re the one who promised. I have nothing to do with it.”

“Of course you have everything to do with it, Vegeta, I learnt it from you!” Goku insisted. “And I want you to do it with me!”

 _Do it with him...?_ Mmm. Eighteen had way too much class to make an innuendo out of that sentence. She really had. Had she?

“ **I said no,** Kakarot.”

Eighteen rolled her eyes, typical of Vegeta to be difficult just to be difficult.

Goku looked at Vegeta without speaking further, and for a moment there was that silent communication thing they sometimes had going on. For the first time Eighteen found herself really really wishing for extra comprehension of a language. For all the linguistics programmed into her part-cybernetic brain (17 and counting that she’d explored so far- that Gero shithead did do some useful things, alongside all his fucking tampering and damage...) she still didn’t understand a word of silent Saiyan speak.

But she could read body language, and there were definitely some heart eyes going around here. Eighteen watched a lot of Rom-Coms, after all.

Finally Vegeta seemed to relent. Eighteen snickered inwardly, it was a valiant effort but as if he ever stood a chance against Goku’s kicked puppy gaze. “Alright, Kakarot,” the prince said grouchily. “But you owe me a good proper spar after, or I’ll knock you into next week.”

Goku grinned happily at him. “Of course, Vegeta, as if I’d ever pass up a chance to spar with you!” 

Around them small talk was dying down as more and more people cottoned on to the fact that something interesting was going to take place. The orange-clad saiyan turned to the general audience they’d gathered and gestured to shoo some of them back. “Alright, let’s clear some space…”

Eighteen acquiesced and silently stepped back. She had to admit she was intrigued, feeling that something momentous was about to happen. Never one to fill silence for the sake of it, she watched as the two saiyans stepped up face-to face. The atmosphere seemed to change as they locked gazes; suddenly it felt like there was a bubble, isolating the two from their onlookers. 

The minutes that followed were some of the most sensual ones Eighteen had experienced as a spectator. Vegeta opened the stance, taking the lead of the kata. Goku followed his movements closely. It was most definitely not a dance, but it was similar enough to be a combative parody of one. Time seemed to still as Goku and Vegeta flowed with and around each other in graceful choreography that clearly belonged to a warrior race, muscles rippling, deadly power and lethal elegance in every move. 

Eighteen had never been attracted to either men - she was very happy with her own cutie bigheart of a husband and wouldn’t trade him for even the world’s supply of zeni, _thank you very much_ \- but as a fighter herself she could appreciate that both men were truly the embodiment of peak warrior physique and spirit.

And watching them move together was something else entirely. 

At one point in the kata the two saiyans stepped in close enough that their forehead and bodies almost touched as they flowed around each other, and the sheer intimacy of that moment made Eighteen feel hot. Even an android body was not impervious to such things, it seemed. 

The provocative heat wasn’t all. As Goku and Vegeta surged and swept around each other in the motions of their lethal dance, Eighteen became aware of a strange, heavy feeling in her chest. There was something sombre and sorrowful electrifying the air. As if the last two saiyans in the universe were giving tribute to and sharing grief over their lost people and culture, everything of which had been reduced to less than stardust.

Around them the clearing fell silent as they watched the kata unfold. Eighteen was certain, absolutely certain she wasn’t the only one to sense the connection and utter chemistry between the two as they shared this remnant of their homeworld. They literally bared their hearts and souls here, nothing could be hidden. For their part the saiyans seemed to only have eyes for each other as they moved through the forms in harmony. 

Their kata was a story, powerfully emotive. A dirge, strangely sad. And there could not have been a better duo to perform it. 

The way the two saiyans darted around each other was sensual to watch. It was hypnotic. It was intimate. 

No wonder Vegeta had been reluctant to share this with an audience. 

As the kata came slowly to an end, both saiyans came to a rest in an open stance, unlike the combative one they had started with. Gazes still locked, both inclined their heads with dignity, one warrior’s respect to another. 

Goku breathed out. “Wow.” His smile was gentle, more tender than Eighteen had ever seen the man. Vegeta for his part looked back at the other saiyan with his head tilted slightly up, something solemn and almost peaceful in his gaze.

Then the moment broke as the prince seemed to remember where he was and that they had an audience. With a light flush Eighteen was sure had _absolutely nothing_ to do with exertion, Vegeta stepped back, putting a wide distance between himself and Goku. “Happy now, Kakarot?” he barked. 

“Yeah.” Goku still had that alien fondness on his face. “That felt amazing. You’re incredible, Vegeta.” 

Okay, classy as she was, there was _no way_ Eighteen could resist making an innuendo from that particular turn of words. As everyone else crowded around the two saiyans in admiration and appreciation, she smirked wickedly, ready to drop a potentially provocative remark.

Krillin, seeing that expression on her face and knowing her well enough to justifiably become very alarmed in a very short space of time, quickly said, “ Uh- that was awesome to watch guys, it really was! I’ve never seen anything like it, honestly, you guys should do it more often - but if you’re going to fight, can you take it somewhere other than Kame Island?” He turned hurriedly back to Eighteen and proposed, “Honey, let’s go put Marron to bed now?”

Eighteen looked at him with a raised eyebrow. She analysed the worth of using a well-placed comment to cause Vegeta’s face to ignite in further embarrassment, and decided _yes_ to hell with it, she so enjoyed making people squirm. 

Then she remembered she had yet to talk to Bulma and Chichi about her thoughts, and it would be rude to vocally, seriously ship their husbands without both women at least being aware and in approval of it. Her moral compass just about gave in to that. Barely. Ah well, there would be another day. “Sure, babe. Come on, Marron honey, time to catch the sleep fairy.”

Marron looked slightly disappointed that she didn’t but she didn’t whine. That was her little girl. “Okay, Mommy.”

“That was awesome, Dad!” she could hear Goten saying as she picked up Marron, to much enthusiastic agreement from the general vicinity. “Can you teach us some time? Me an’ Trunks wanna practice, we’re saiyan too!”

Eighteen glanced back to catch sight of Vegeta’s discomfited expression and Goku cheerful as ever, and smirked In her arms, Marron who was old enough to walk by herself but still enjoying her mother’s pampering, squirmed happily. 

“Mommy?” Marron whispered in a questioning tone. Eighteen obligingly leaned in towards her daughter, quietly adoring how the night light played against the combined features of her hair and Krillin’s eyes in this little being. “Uncle Goku and Vegeta look at each other like you and Daddy look at each other. Does that mean they like each other like you and Daddy like each other?”

Eighteen blinked her ice blue eyes, first startled, then unbearably proud. Sometimes she couldn’t believe her cybernetically tampered-with body had produced this precious, cute, sharp little bundle. Smiling, she smoothed back Marron’s hair. “Maybe, honey. We don’t know for sure. They’re really cute together, huh.” Her little girl nodded, and she winked a little savagely. “Maybe you can ask them next time.” It would be well worth the expression on Vegeta’s face. Goku would probably just be confused.

“Okay,” Marron smiled up at her with Krillin’s eyes, and Eighteen’s once-icy heart melted a little more. Only her family had the privilege to see this warm side of her, and that was absolutely fine- there was no way she would trade them for anything in the world. “Now let’s get you to bed, okay? School tomorrow.”

As Marron clung to her shoulders, Eighteen ruffled her hair. She treasured these moments with Marron more- already her baby girl was growing too fast. Her cybernetically enhanced hearing could pick up Goku and Vegeta bantering -come- flirting again, but she consciously tuned them out as ambient noise. Wicked teasing and serious conversations could wait. 

But, she smirked to herself, there was no way she was going to let it go. Oh, Eighteen wanted some popcorn to go with this first-class entertainment. It was better and more delicious than any Rom-Com or soap opera she’d ever watched at Kame House, and Eighteen was _there_ _for_ ** _all_** _of it._

* * *

Vegeta resisted the urge to grind his teeth into powder dust. Why, oh **_why_ ** did he have the worst damn luck when it came to saving-the-world related matters? Perhaps he would just revert to villainy instead after this whole thing was over, it wasn’t like the universe heeded his wishes either way.

The Z-Fighters had been on one of the space picnics that had become a relatively common occurrence since the tournament Beerus held against his brother Champa. Dining with Gods and Angels on a different planet in a different universe had become a normality within Bulma’s group of friends, it seemed. (Vegeta’s weird shit meter had just about given up at this point, nothing could surprise him anymore.) This time they had chosen to picnic in a rather hot, scenic mountainous area with swirling surfaces that reminded Vegeta of marble surfaces.

Only Vegeta’s family, Kakarot, Goten and Krillin’s family had been able to make it. Gohan’s family had sent their apologies as they’d had something preplanned with the Namkeian. 

Everything had been going fine. Up until the point where Vegeta and Kakarot were squabbling for the last Ramen pot as a small audience watched them either jadedly or nervously from the side, wondering if it would eventually come to blows. 

Then some strange, humanoid looking creatures had appeared out of nowhere, and all hell had broken loose. 

_“Can you understand what they’re saying, Vegeta?”_

_“Why are you asking me? I’m a prince, not a fucking dictionary.”_

_Kakarot pouted. “Well, you_ **_are_ ** _the one with the most space experience of all of us, Vegeta. If anyone can understand them, it’s you.”_

_Vegeta had to admit the other saiyan’s logic was sound for once, but damned if he acquiesced to it out loud. “I’m not a universal translator, Kakarot, I have no clue what they want.”_

Turned out that the creatures were the last survivors of the Tuffles, a technologically advanced warrior race that had a vendetta against saiyans, because of course they did. And what they wanted were for the last two remaining saiyans and all their descendants to be very, very dead. 

He had scoffed at them, but deep inside Vegeta wondered if he would ever stop paying for the sins of his race, feeling the weight of his own bloody mistakes. 

There was enough awkward, fractured interaction for him to make the connection that it was these very same people that had been behind the random alien invasion with the Ki-blocking force field a couple of months back. Had it been just him and Kakarot present, or even just the Zfighters, it would have been a simple enough matter to defeat and/or eviscerate them to pieces, though Kakarot would probably have had something to say on that last one. But the Tuffles were sneaky and merciless, as Vegeta himself had once been, and understood the value of emotional damage. Thus they had targeted the group of friends and family around the two saiyans first in a massive killing blast.

Even as Vegeta shouted for everyone to get clear, the resulting chaos had ensured the whole group was broken up. Vegeta had flashed across the distance towards the revenge-driven Tuffles in an effort to distract them and buy time. He was the Saiyan Prince after all, likely their main and most prized target. Instinctively understanding the prince’s ploy without the need for words, Kakarot had dived down below, moving lightning quick to transport those he could reach _the hell_ out of there.

_A hand extended in urgency. “Vegeta, come on, we gotta get out of here!”_

_“Kakarot, they went through the trouble to track us all the way out here - if we don’t deal with this now, they’ll just track us back to Earth.”_

_“...You’re right…” A twisted expression. “I have a bad feeling about this if we stay longer, though…”_

_“You go get everyone else, Kakarot. I’ll handle them.”_

_“...I don’t like that, Vegeta…”_

_“Stop worrying, Kakarot - I have a plan.” An easy lie. Kakarot was just trusting and gullible enough to believe him. “You focus on the rest.”_

_A squint, doubtfulness. “Really? You do?”_

_“_ ** _YES_** , _Kakarot_ **_._ ** _Now_ **_go_ ** _!”_

Of course Vegeta didn’t have a plan, beyond bash their heads in and leave. Pretty simple and solid, just what he liked.

Then it got worse. The ki blocking force field from last time sprang into place. 

Except this time, it wasn’t just a force field with a limited radius. It encompassed the whole planet. Its entire surface and its very atmosphere sizzled with whatever power it was that obstructed their ki usage. 

It meant that Vegeta had taken what would have been a laughably harmless attack quite badly and was now carrying a fairly serious wound down his left arm and side.

It meant that whoever was still on this planet that Kakarot didn’t have the chance to grab, was trapped on it.

It meant that Vegeta wasn’t certain who had survived the explosive attack, and who had been injured. 

The decrepit little thing he called a heart thudded with anxiety. _Bulma. Trunks_. 

He avoided naming more names. There was no good to be gained from it.

He was less worried about himself - he’d done enough hand-to-hand combat in a weakened state to know he was fairly competent at it. 

He was worried about the two very unlikely children he’d come upon in his aimless wandering afterwards, though.

“Uncle Vegeta, do you think we’re going the right way?”

Vegeta resisted the urge to snap. His slight dizziness didn’t help his mood in the slightest. “No, Goten, given that there is no right way to go,” the prince pointed out. “We’re stuck on this planet, the best thing we can do is stay off radar for now.”

Goten looked at him, mouth downturned in a manner reminiscent of Kakarot’s when unhappy about something. Abruptly, Vegeta thought of Kakarot, missing the steady, reliable presence of the other saiyan at his side; the understanding that if shit went down, at the very least, they would go down together. 

One of Goten’s hands grasped Marron’s little palm protectively. “I really don’t like that, Uncle Vegeta.”

“You think I do?” There was nothing Vegeta liked about this situation. As if things couldn’t get any more absurd, he’d happened to chance upon the last two people he’d have expected to be stuck with in this plight. And they were both mere _children_. “Quiet down, I need to think.” He rested against a slightly cooler patch of marble with a sigh.

Unbidden, his mind flashed back to years and years ago back on Namek when he’d struck up an uneasy alliance with Krillin and Gohan. The irony and absurdity of the situation didn’t escape Vegeta: this time he was stuck with Gohan’s younger brother, and Krillin’s daughter, of _all people_. Back then they’d been nothing but a means to an end for him. This time, though, enough years had lapsed that the prince actually had enough conscience and honour to realise that he was in charge of protecting the two with him, in the absence of their parents.

He grumbled inwardly. Goten was one thing, he’d spent enough time with the youngest spawn of Kakarot to understand how to handle the boy, but _the girl_?! He barely knew how to handle people, let alone infants. Vegeta was so very much the absolute wrong-est person for the job that even his thought structure had to accommodate for the wrongness. Why was this the cosmic joke that was his life?! 

Why hadn’t Krillin or Eighteen dived for their own child? Goten was easy enough to explain: Kakarot had always been selfless in that selfish way that meant he would have dived to save everyone, not discriminating against family or friends. Krillin he couldn’t say for sure, but Vegeta knew Eighteen was enough like himself in the way that the world could mess up and blow to hell for all she cared, so long as her family was safe and sound. So how could she have let her young child slip through her grasp?

Perhaps she and Krillin both didn’t survive the explosion.

Perhaps Vegeta’s family didn’t. 

Perhaps even Kakarot didn’t. Vegeta couldn’t tell, with the inhibition of his ki sensors.

 _Unlikely, Vegeta, get a hold of yourself_. Pushing down the slight panic and dread that threatened to overwhelm him, he ran through his options. 

First was to make sure the two children were physically unharmed, and mentally fairly okay. Check. Vegeta was not a nurturer by any means but he knew enough to do that.

He himself was not doing too well. Vegeta glared at Goten, who was surreptitiously eyeing the prince’s damaged shoulder and rib - as surreptitiously as a child could, anyway. Gohan had been capable of more tact and stealth when he was younger, though both children had more sneakiness than their father ever did. Vegeta snorted.

 _Focus_. At the moment the prince was still upright,, but he was aware that his thoughts were beginning to wander more easily. In a couple more hours the blood loss coupled with the sweltering heat of the planet could be a problem. 

Second was to ascertain what this planet was and what the hell he had to work with. Vegeta knew next to nothing about this planet beyond its swirling marble surface the little girl seemed to have taken a great liking to. At least she seemed happily distracted, he supposed. Vegeta’s own saiyan battle-geared brain analysed that in a fight the distracting surfaces could be a double-edged sword: he could use them as subterfuge to his advantage, but the same applied to the enemy, and they had probably picked this particular planet and this particular moment to attack for their own reasons. 

He had no idea how to get off this planet. That was a major problem. Some planets Vegeta had been on in the past had telltale signs to exit pods, or at least communication hatches. This planet seemed to have nothing of the sort- it had been picked for their picnic precisely for its desolateness and lack of sentient living creatures. 

And of course, there was this little inconvenience of ki-blockers in place from all of the planet’s surface, and not being able to use their ki. Fuck. 

Finally, he didn’t know if anyone else was on it still other than their strange little trio. The enemy was probably in hiding or waiting to ambush them somehow. Double fuck. Was there anything he’d missed? Vegeta didn’t think so. Thorough situation assessment: check.

For the first time Vegeta wished he had bothered to pick up Instant Transmission. It was a Kakarot-signature move, so the prince never wanted to even ask, due to some misguided sense of pride. Kakarot had used the technique to great advantage in their spars, until Vegeta had learnt how to deal with it and turn it to his advantage, and by that point it just added an element of fun to their fights. But he couldn’t deny it would have been extremely useful in this situation. 

Not that he could have used it anyway, when their ki was being blocked.

Goten fidgeted. “Uh, Uncle Vegeta?” the demi-saiyan whispered, probably so that Marron’s human ears didn’t catch on. “You’re kinda bleeding a lot.”

“It looks worse than it is.” 

Goten frowned. “Are you sure?”

Vegeta resisted the urge to scream. “Yes. You talk too much,” he told the boy, pushing himself up. The world tilted for a moment then righted itself.

When his vision cleared a bit he found Goten looking at him in silent consternation. The boy had taken Marron’s hand again. For being the fun-loving youngest child who was used to being taken care of, Goten wasn’t doing too bad of a job with Marron.

_What the fuck do I do, dammit?_

Vegeta by himself wouldn’t have been an issue. He’d survived far, far worse situations with far more debilitating injuries. But he felt the weight of two pairs of small eyes on him, with the expectations of their parents and loved ones- people he’d come to count as his allies and even _friends,_ in the loosest possible sense of the word. The prince wouldn’t forgive himself if any harm came to them under his watch.

His mind drifted a bit. Damn, he couldn’t see a way out of this yet.

* * *

“I don’t give a damn what angels are or aren’t allowed to do!” Eighteen snapped, beyond furious. “My daughter is on that planet!”

Across her the holy figure that was Whis looked supremely unbothered. She wanted to throttle him - because of his apathy, he was more a demon than an angel in her eyes right then. “I’m sorry, Miss Eighteen. As I’ve stated, I cannot and will not interfere in mortal proceedings, not even for this regrettable occasion.” He sipped on the dainty little cup of tea he was holding. “May I offer you some of this delightful concoction? I believe it is chamomile, it is said to have a calming effect on the senses.”

“Oh, fuck you,” Eighteen snapped, beyond disgusted with angel, gods, whatever the heck they were. She understood his carelessness, having held similar views to people outside her own immediate family at one point, but she was in no mood to be rational. No status, no jewellery in the world, no diamond, no amount of zeni could compare to the precious gem that was her daughter. 

Trunks glanced up at her guiltily. Marron had been playing some ways away with Goten and Trunks during their picnic. Trunks had at some point wandered back to his mother for a snack or something, which was why he had been close enough to latch on to their group when Goku Instant Transmitted those he could reach back. Her daughter and Goten had not been so lucky.

A secret she would never tell Marron: Birthing her daughter had been a danger to Eighteen’s life. Her part-cybernetic body could not carry a foetus to full-term: Marron’s birth had been premature via C-Section at the near-end of six months, with Bulma’s best doctors strictly monitoring the infant’s survival afterwards at her severe warnings. 

Eighteen had been in barely a shape to look after herself, her android body unable to heal from the strain of carrying a baby as a normal female would. It rejected the common drugs they introduced into her system. Marron had been terribly, terribly small, but she proved to be a little fighter too. It had been a pure miracle that either of them had survived. But Eighteen wouldn’t have traded it for anything. From any and all her near death experiences, this was the one she welcomed and would experience again with open arms. 

For all of that, she was extra protective of Marron. Eighteen would let the world go into flames before she was to let her daughter be snatched from her by some stupid picnic gone awry. Angel Laws be damned.

Eighteen made an effort to reign in her temper. Where was the cool indifference that was her trademark? She didn’t know anything anymore, beyond that with each heartbeat, _Marron, Marron, Marron, please be SAFE_ was the litany in her mind. “Goku, can you sense anything yet?”

Goku shook his head at her, gaze unusually sombre and serious. “Sorry, Eighteen, not yet.” Being arguably the most powerful one in their midst, his ability to sense ki extended to the far realms of the universe. “The ki blockers must still be up.” 

Eighteen had been asking the saiyan for an update every two minutes. She wanted to scream, not for the first time cursing Gero for robbing her of the ability to sense ki.

“We can’t just stand here,” she raged. “We have to do _something_.”

“I know, babe,” Krillin said placatingly to her. His voice, usually a balm, did nothing to calm her now. It didn’t help that he was clearly worried too. “We’ll think of something. Just sit down for a second?”

“I can’t,” Eighteen shook her head, feeling like she was to break apart. Never had she felt like this. Through every crisis, even as they died in Buu’s hands, she had had Marron in her arms. This was the first time they’d been separated. “Marron’s there, Krillin.” _We don’t know if she’s there alive or dead,_ she didn’t say, but it was the unspoken implication.

“Vegeta stayed back to distract them,” Goku offered, though he looked uncharacteristically worried too. Eighteen was not in the mood to read into that at this moment. “I’m sure he’ll take care of her.”

“If he finds her at all,” she pointed out cuttingly. _My daughter’s safety with Vegeta doesn’t exactly inspire me with confidence, no matter how much of a good person he’s become,_ she didn’t say, but it was a close thing.

Goku exhaled slowly, probably understanding where her thoughts led in that weird, omniscient way of his. Eighteen had to look away at the reprimand in his gaze. 

“They weren’t playing that far away.” Bulma’s tone had a sharp underlying edge, but she put an arm on her shoulder comfortingly. “I’m sure Vegeta has them and will take care of them. As much as an emotionally constipated asshole can, anyway.” Eighteen felt a little bit of shame at the heiress’ easy forgiveness despite her insinuating words. She was running on high emotions, wasn’t she? She didn’t know how to handle those, being the cool ice queen she usually was.

“He said he had a plan.” Goku said, almost as if to himself. “Though, I think he was just saying that to get me to go.” There was something almost bitter to Goku’s tone there. Huh. Whatever. Eighteen didn’t care to read him right now, not until her daughter was safe in her hands.

Goku seemed to shake out of it. He turned to the genius heiress hopefully. “Bulma, is there anything we can do about that ki-blocking force field? It seems to be covering the whole planet.”

Bulma’s eyes were wild with a focused panic. Were she to look into a mirror, Eighteen rather felt that her own gaze would be similar in that moment. “I’m trying, but it’s going to take a lot longer- I only have the planet coordinates to work with, there’s no actual information system for me to hack into so I have to build the code from scratch and reverse engineer the ki-blocking technology.” 

Eighteen would pretend she understood even half of what Bulma had rapidly fired off, but she didn’t pretend. Goku nodded, but his gaze seemed strangely far away. “...I’m going to try something different.” All heads turned towards him. “Just... I need some quiet for a bit, okay?”

“Okay, Goku,” Krillin nodded, clearly wondering what kind of miracle Goku was going to pull out of his ass this time. “Go for it.”

Goku gave her a reassuring half-smile.”Don’t worry, Eighteen, we’ll get Marron back safe,” he said confidently. Eighteen didn’t share it, but this man had a tendency pulled miracles left right and centre seemingly out of thin air. To her slight surprise, he merely proceeded to shut his eyes as if going into a meditative state. She narrowed her ice blue gaze, watching him sharply.

* * *

The behemoth that was the fused manifestation of the Tuffle warriors roared its fury to the skies. Behind Vegeta, the small figure of Goten hunched protectively over Marron, his eyes narrowed in an uncanny, younger likeness of Kakarot’s combative face. 

To add to the shitshow that was his life, they’d been ambushed by the Tuffles. Vegeta hadn’t been actively hiding in the first place, of course, but it was still a sore spot for him. While he’d attempted to gesture Goten and Marron back into a relatively protected cavern, the Tuffles had taken the time to merge into the horned monstrosity he was now facing. And things were not going well, with his injury that was more serious than he’d initially thought.

_Vegeta?_

Vegeta wasn’t proud of it, but the unexpected voice nearly startled him right out of his skin. 

At first the prince thought he was imagining things, but then the sensation came again: a ghostly, warm brush against his mind, rub against his cheek that was both welcome and familiar, a touch on his shoulder that felt just right. _Vegeta, can you hear me?_

“What the utter fuck,” Vegeta muttered aloud. 

Kakarot’s mental voice in his head sounded relieved. _Oh wow, it worked. I didn’t think it would._

Vegeta ducked what would have been a punishing blow to take head on without ki. This monster was really fighting to kill. _Kakarot, what._ The prince hoped that that one word conveyed everything he wanted to say and every bit of the incredulity he was feeling, because he was a little distracted right then.

A warm sensation of fondness flooded in from the other side. _I guess the Potara fusion did leave something permanent after all._

Yes, as Vegeta had suspected, this was the post-fusion bond they had both spent a long time actively trying to avoid discussing. The prince mentally snorted. Looked like his prediction was right, the universe was hellbent on pushing him towards the other saiyan. 

_I see years of being in my company hasn’t dimmed your ability to state the obvious in the slightest, Kakarot._

A mental sensation of shrugging, a small chuckle. _You’re so funny, Vegeta._

Even as he darted past in an attempt to lure the fused Tuffle monster thing the heck _away_ from where Goten and Marron were crouching, Vegeta felt his own lips twitch in an aborted attempt at a smile. Only Kakarot could take his stinging sarcasm and rebrand it as funny. 

As Vegeta tried to find an opening in the Tuffle’s well-structured armor, a thought struck him. Since Kakarot was within hearing range (well, sort of) - he could check - 

_Bulma, Trunks?!_ The prince demanded.

That warm sensation of affection again, coupled with understanding. _I got them out in time, don’t worry._

Vegeta was unsure if the sudden sense of relief he felt was transmitting across to the other saiyan. Unsure if he cared, at that point. _Good._ The fused Tuffle attempted to drive the prince back against the wall and simultaneously skewer him. It would have been easy to dodge, but his left side was giving him less mobility. _Goten and Marron are here with me._

Kakarot’s turn for quick relief. _Oh, thank Kami._

_What the hell, Kakarot, how were you too slow to grab them?_

Contriteness and a hint of hurt flooded from the other end. _I did my best, there wasn’t much time…_ Kakarot’s protest was weak. Even without being physically able to look at his contrite face Vegeta was able to sense the underlying guilt and unhappiness the idiot was feeling. He was clearly asking himself the same question already.

Shit, this mental bond was dangerous. It seemed the link revealed everything. He and Kakarot would have to set some boundaries and learn to put up some mental barriers, else Vegeta would never again have peace of mind. He already didn’t have peace of life from a Kakarot. 

A Kakarot who was currently unable to hide the hurt and guilt he was feeling from their mental landscape. Once upon a time, Vegeta wouldn’t have said the idiot wasn’t capable of such emotions. How wrong he was. Kakarot was capable of deeper feelings than people realized. He and Kakarot were similar in that sense: they both wore masks, only in different ways. Perhaps that was why they gravitated towards each other constantly.

Damn, Vegeta couldn’t help but soften a little. It wasn’t really Kakarot’s fault. As most things generally were. He said ( -thought?) as much.

_Hmph, I suppose you’re not really to blame this time, Kakarot._

A chuckle. A bit of surprise? _Thanks, Vegeta._ Vegeta was suddenly paranoid that Kakarot had heard his every thought just now. He had to rectify it quickly.

_Unlike most times. Most times, you’re actually at fault, Kakarot. Always biting off more than you can chew._

A mental huff. _You’re one to talk, Vegeta…_ An image came to him then, of a black pot and kettle, with cartoonish drawings of him and Kakarot on each item. _There’s this saying Chichi uses, about pots and kettles both being black…_

Vegeta nearly laughed out loud at the unexpected wit. But why was he surprised, this was Kakarot, after all, who Vegeta knew to have quite a savage side, in that innocent, clueless, honest way only he did. The momentary amusement nearly caused the prince to receive a blow to his vulnerable side as the Tuffle swiped at him, but he managed to dodge away just in time, holding his injured side protected. _You have a savage side after all, Kakarot._

 _Hehe. Well, I_ **_am_ ** _learning from the master of it himself._

Vegeta smirked, morphing into a yelp of pain as the Tuffle bastard got a hit in. Oof. That was a heavy blow. He kept forgetting he didn’t have ki to use here, so his natural defense was lowered. That was a big problem. He needed some sort of plan of action or strategy here, but it was hard to think, fight without ki, and protect two children. What was the best thing to do?

There was suddenly an ounce of displeasure from Kakarot’s side of the mental link that took the prince aback. _Earlier, you said you had a plan._

Vegeta felt a twinge of remorse but brushed it away quickly. _Yes, Kakarot, it was a lie. Deal with it._

Kakarot’s irritation spiked a little. Vegeta felt a little alarmed -it wasn’t easy to annoy Kakarot, and he damn well tried his best some days- but the prince stood his ground.

 _Come on, Kakarot, it won’t have mattered if I had a plan or not, we couldn’t predict the ki blocking force field coming into the equation._ Vegeta did his best impression of a mental scowl. _And you really should know me by now._

An exhale, something being let go. _...Yeah, I guess I do._ Easy forgiveness, at least for now. _You’re a real piece of work sometimes though, Vegeta._

 _Fair enough_ , Vegeta thought as he dropped low into a very guarded stance. What did Kakarot see Vegeta’s abrasiveness, anyway, that cutting remarks were so easily brushed aside? Sometimes, deep down, Vegeta felt he really didn’t deserve the other saiyan’s presence. One of these days the younger saiyan was going to realise it himself and drift away.

 _Hey, that’s not true. I love spending time with you, Vegeta!_ The mental voice suddenly had a fond teasing note to it. _And I actually find it kinda cute when you’re mean. You’re like a grouchy little cat._

Vegeta blanched in utter shock. Firstly, Kakarot was not meant to hear his insecure thoughts. They would need to work out some boundaries with this mental link and some way of controlling what came through and what didn’t.

Secondly, **_cute_ ** ?! Like a **_little_ ** cat?!

The prince didn’t have the time to verbalise (or mentalise? Vegeta didn’t know anymore) his protest. His two-second moment spent having a crisis was a costly mistake. The fused Tuffle roared in triumph as it rushed at him with clear homicidal intent. Vegeta dived towards Marron and Goten, grabbing both small bodies roughly and flinging them both far far to one side without apology. He had just enough time to snap at Goten: “Get her out of here! Go hide!” before the behemoth was upon where they had previously been.

The murderous intent was there in every strike: this Tuffle entity was fighting to kill. Vegeta weaved left and right, avoiding the punishing blows where he could and throwing several jabs and swipes of his own. The prince could feel himself losing ground though, and knew it wasn’t long before the inevitable happened. True enough, the moment his guard was exposed, his opponent took advantage of his earlier injury and thrust straight into it. 

For a second there was nothing, then an explosion of pain down his left side as if he was being electrocuted. Vegeta cried out, feeling something icy spreading in his veins after the initial blistering agony. Momentum slammed the prince head first into the rocks behind them, already-damaged body taking the brunt of the damage. There was an audible, sickening crack down his left side as bones shattered to pieces, and Vegeta blacked out for a second.

When he came to, there was cacophony on the other end of the mental link in the form of a very frantic Kakarot. 

_Vegeta?! Vegeta, wake up! Are you okay?!_ The younger saiyan’s voice sounded panicked and extremely loud. Vegeta frowned sluggishly, faintly swatting at the air before realizing in a haze that Kakarot wasn’t exactly in front of him right then. The prince had the vague feeling that he should be embarrassed, but it was becoming harder and harder to think.

_I will be once you stop shouting so loudly, Kakarot..._

_Sorry, sorry - I was worried,_ the younger saiyan apologised, and Vegeta suffered a terrifying moment of uncertainty in which he wondered exactly what Kakarot was worried about, before it all came rushing back to him. _Shit._ There was a mental sensation of gentle fingers tenderly brushing against his bloodied forehead, as if checking down his injury. The touch was ghostly, but it drew his attention to the gaping hole and crush of bones down his injured side. The prince hissed in pain, curling over the open wound, only aggravating the shattered bones. 

_Vegeta, this- this is pretty bad._ Kakarot’s mental voice had kicked up a notch in anxiety, sounding almost shaky.

_I’m fine, Kakarot -_

_No you’re NOT!_ The younger saiyan’s tone climbed several octaves unexpectedly. _You don’t have ki right now, Vegeta! Our healing factor or even the Zenkai boost won’t work here - This is_ **_serious_ ** _!_

In the private chamber of their post-fusion link, the sudden rise in his voice was deafening. Vegeta flinched in surprise. Immediately there was a gentler, apologetic brush against his mind, the utter sincerity of it making verbal expression unnecessary. _Vegeta, we need to get you out quick._

The prince knew this logically, but didn’t feel very inclined to move right then. His body felt like it had been set on fire, blown up, and hastily put back together again. And Vegeta was aware of the sensation of liquid ice slowly spreading in his veins, numbing him in the process. His sluggish brain wasn’t sure what it was exactly, but it couldn’t be good. Dimly, the prince felt he should be fairly alarmed, but drowsiness was starting to set in.

There was a rustle somewhere to his right, and Vegeta forced his head up to see what looked like mini-Kakarot in front of him. It took a beat before his gaze focused enough for him to realise. The prince scowled at Goten, steadfastly ignoring the darkness at the edge of his vision. “I thought I told you to get away from here, you brat.” 

Honestly it had been a while since he’d used that term to address both his own son and/or Kakarot’s youngest spawn, having grown to silently accept the boy as one of his own. But it was damn well merited on this occasion.

“I don’t wanna.” Goten frowned at him, combative expression a near-perfect mimicry of Kakarot’s when the younger saiyan was being unduly stubborn about something. “Dad won’t have left you alone like this, so I won’t.” 

Upon later reflection Vegeta would have realised that he clearly had not been thinking clearly when he’d told the two children to go into hiding. There was nowhere safe, really, for the young ones to flee to. They would have ended up wandering aimlessly around the planet waiting for rescue, or worse, running straight into the very danger Vegeta had been trying to keep them away from. Goten had made the correct and smart choice in keeping close to the prince. 

At that point in time, however, Vegeta cursed every single Kakarot related thing in existence and branded the boy to be equal parts brave and stupid, **_just_ ** like his father. Marginally less like his brother - Gohan was brave but not so stupid.

To be fair, Goten still had the sense to keep Marron with him, at least. 

_You’re a bad influence on your son, Kakarot._ Vegeta wasn’t sure if the other saiyan was still there. In fact the prince wasn’t sure if he’d hallucinated the whole thing. Was it actually Kakarot using their fusion link? Or a figment of Vegeta’s imagination, perhaps manifested by his desire to have Kakarot alongside him right now?

 _Nah, it’s really me, Vegeta. I’m right here._ The sensation of being gently embraced with something that felt almost more than platonic affection in its tenderness was startling. Even in his addled mental state, Vegeta nearly jumped out of his skin for the second time in quick succession. The prince was sure he really didn’t have the capacity of imagination to have made that up by himself, so, it must be Kakarot for real. 

_Of course, Vegeta._ There was so much reassurance and determination in that voice that Vegeta just wanted to lean into the comfort of it. _Let’s_ _get you and the kids safely back, yeah?_

Vegeta was about to respond. But the comforting presence that had been touching his mind vanished abruptly, as the world turned the colour of fire. 

* * *

Goku’s eyes shot open. “Vegeta!”

Dammit, their connection was untrained and still very weak. Goku rarely got angry or frustrated, but right then he really really wanted to hit something. Preferably something that moved and was actively causing pain to others.

Goku had known that he should have approached the prince about training that mental link long ago. It would be very useful in a fight, especially given he and Vegeta’s natural chemistry on the battlefield. But he respected the prince’s desire and natural tendency towards privacy enough not to breach the subject himself. And, well, the Earth-raised saiyan had his own secrets. The strange, happy-tingly nervous feeling he’d been having around Vegeta lately, that he hadn’t figured out yet, was just some of the things he preferred to keep under wraps. At least, until he understood them himself.

Several pairs of anxious eyes met his own. Eighteen was suddenly right in front of him, ice blue eyes shining with anger and worry. Goku had never seen her as upset before. “What’s going on?” she demanded. “What do you mean, _Vegeta_?! What did you see?”

“Vegeta has Marron and Goten with him,” Goku told them tersely, trying to calm his own thundering heartbeat. He could still feel the phantom torment electrifying down his left side, mirroring Vegeta’s agony. “He got badly injured trying to protect them. We **really** need to hurry.” Was his voice shaky? Goku had recognised the cool sensation that Vegeta had felt running in his veins. It was similar to the poison that had coursed through his own system just months prior.

Goku tried to shake off his worry. Vegeta was made of tough stuff. He would be fine. Right?

Goku turned to Bulma, who was bent over a million contraptions he couldn’t make sense of. “Bulma, anything yet?” Did his voice always sound that strained?

“I’ll have it down in less than two minutes”-

“Two _minutes_?! That’s way too long, Bulma!” Goku’s voice rose. “Can’t it be any faster?” 

His heart thundered anxiously. Why did he feel like this? This wasn’t like him. He was normally calmer in times of crisis. Why couldn’t he maintain that now?

But Goku was scared Vegeta wasn’t going to last two minutes. This was like the Kid Buu fight all over again, when the prince’s survival was a literal coin flip.

And if Vegeta went down, the kids stood almost no chance.

“Do you think this is easy?!” Bulma snapped. Ah, that warning tone of hers meant he was on thin ice. “I’m working as fast as I can, Son Goku - Vegeta’s _my_ husband too!!!”

Goku felt wrong-footed. Why did he feel like this? And come to think of it, what did she mean? “Sorry, Bulma,” he apologised, backtracking quickly. “I just - I saw him get burned-”

Bulma shook her head. She was trembling, he realised, her usually steady fingers shaking over the tools she was using. “Don’t tell me or I won’t be able to do a thing. I know you’re worried too.” She gave him a meaningful look he couldn’t read, which turned into a strained smile. “A little bit more should do it.”

This was like Evil Buu all over again, when Vegeta was getting pummeled within an inch of his life. Back then, Goku had been horrified to watch even as he knew the necessity of it. But this time, he _physically_ felt ill with anxiety. Something had changed between then and now about his feelings for Vegeta, and Goku was only beginning to realise it. He was significantly more invested in the prince’s well being, that was for certain. 

Goku couldn’t explain his own panic to himself. The sensation of burning skin and cracked ribs ghosted Goku’s memory. He knew he was being irrational. They were saiyans, pain was something to welcome instead of fear because it meant they were getting stronger. Goku himself was no stranger to it. He didn’t mind it, to a degree. But it was hard when it was Vegeta. When he’d literally felt what Vegeta felt, lived through what he did, suffered through what he suffered. Vegeta had been the scapegoat enough.

Of course he’d seen Vegeta with worse injuries. Survived Kid Buu beating him within an inch of his life. Walked off a spirit bomb, for goodness’ sake.

But he shouldn’t have to suffer these kinds of things. Not anymore.

And Goten was trapped too, and Marron who was his best friend’s daughter. Maybe that was why Goku felt so off and wanted to rage at something. Yes, that was it.

A few more moments passed while Goku had his internal crisis, torturous moments that honestly felt like hours. Then -

“Done!” Bulma shouted suddenly. “Goku, it’s down-”

But Goku hadn’t needed her to say it. The sudden rush of three ki signatures across the cosmic distance was enough to tell him that the force field was down. Marron’s small ki, eclipsed by Goten’s larger, dearer one. And beyond that, the ki signature that Goku would know anywhere in the universe called out to him, one that felt as familiar and natural as breathing was, and, he was beginning to realise, more dear to him than many things were or had ever been. 

That was something he really needed to dwell over. Later, though. For now, Vegeta’s ki was much fainter and flickered, where it usually burnt strong with the force of a thousand suns.

Goku teleported in, praying to whatever deity he didn’t know anymore that it wasn’t too late.

* * *

He was lying on something warm and soft. There was something numbing covering the entirety of the left side of his body. Where was he? With heroic effort, Vegeta opened his eyes.

“Hey big guy.” Bulma’s beautiful blue eyes met him as she smiled in relief. “We’ve got to stop meeting like this.”

“Daaaaadddd!!” Trunks bounded straight into his line of vision,voice loud and excited. Bulma shushed him in gentle reprimand. Seeing them both, Vegeta finally felt the tightness in his chest ease considerably. 

He still wasn’t very sure if this was another dream. Or if they were actually there. But it was really nice to know that in at least one universe or dreamscape or whatever this was, they were safe.

Vegeta tried to speak. Found he couldn’t. Thoughts were still hard. Jumbled. Where was he? Noticing his obvious confusion, Bulma spoke.

“You’re in the infirmary at the Lookout, right now.” Vegeta frowned. Why? “I disrupted the force field and Goku got you and the kids out just in time.”

It came back to him in fractured images. The weird marble planet’s swirling surfaces. The Tuffles. Goten’s small figure, stubborn expression. Marron’s little, vulnerable form. Kakarot’s voice reaching through his mind. 

“Korin doesn’t have any Senzus this time of year, so we had Dende heal you,” Bulma explained, leaning in to adjust his pillow. Vegeta was grateful for her familiar scent, her steady, scientist’s hands. “But he wasn’t sure about the poison still in your system - the Tuffles seem to have designed them specifically to maim a saiyan’s systems. He wound up using some traditional medicine, but now wants to keep an eye on you for a bit.” 

The prince felt drugged and disconnected, like his body wasn’t really his. It was alarming, had he the capacity to be alarmed. Trunks pressed against his side in his best attempt at being quiet but still present. The sensation grounded him.

 _Kakarot_ , Vegeta tried to ask, but his tongue was heavy. All that came out was a croak. 

“Goku’s fine,” Bulma said, and there was something amused and loving in her eyes. In his addled state, Vegeta couldn’t read into it. “Well, he seemed upset, but he’s physically fine. He didn’t stick around for a fight for once - He just got in and got you guys out.” Her next words were laden with meaning. “He’s been insistent not to leave you, but he had to go tell Chichi that Goten was okay. I’m sure he’ll be back soon.”

She kept talking, but Vegeta’s eyes grew heavier again. He drifted.

When Vegeta next woke up, it was to a mess of untidy, gravity-defying spikes snoring in a chair by his left side.

The prince snorted. _Typical_. He opted to watch Kakarot sleep for a bit. Kakarot was a force of nature on his own, constantly in motion, seemingly simple at surface glance but a thing of total mystery if one looked too close. The younger saiyan was an enigma, and Vegeta welcomed the chance to study him in the quiet.

Kakarot’s elbows pillowed his face as he slept, mess of bangs somehow adding to his innocence. Vegeta couldn’t help but find the image somewhat...endearing. The prince found himself tracing the sharp jaw, the long sweep of lashes, the smooth skin. Kakarot had always been easy on the eyes, a fact Vegeta had tried very hard to not notice over the years. But today, perhaps with fatigue lowering his mental defenses, he had to admit - the younger saiyan was, for lack of a better word, handsome. Both in human and in saiyan standards, with a lion’s heart of courage and compassion to match the appearance. 

In his state of light dozing though, Kakarot was kind of… cute. There was no other word for it. And Vegeta didn’t miss the way the younger saiyan seemed to be curled by his left, right over where the prince’s worst injuries were previously. 

There was a funny feeling that seemed to magnify in his chest the longer he gazed at the sleeping saiyan. A feeling that was more than fondness, that felt vaguely like what he felt when he looked Bulma and Trunks. But not exactly like it.

Vegeta didn’t want to look deeper. He really, really didn’t want to peer into that chasm. Perhaps he was still sickly from whatever the hell the poison was they injected into his system. Yes, that must be what it was.

Just as Vegeta resolved his internal crisis, the room door opened, causing Kakarot to wake up. Vegeta’s brain stopped momentarily as Eighteen of all people stepped through, conspicuously no small Marron with her.

Before either one of them could speak, the younger saiyan shook his head almost violently as if to rouse himself further. He became coherent to the land of the living at an impressive rate, considering how bleary Vegeta knew him to be in the mornings from experience on Whis’ planet. 

“Vegetaaaa.” The prince watched on in some amusement as Kakarot mauled the last syllable of his name in a yawn. Perhaps it would have annoyed him once, but it was rather endearing today. “How-” Kakarot stifled another yawn- “long have you been awake?”

Vegeta shrugged in an ambiguous response. It didn’t really matter, and he didn’t really want to admit to having watched the other saiyan sleep. He evaded with a question of his own. “How long have you been in that dozing in that chair, Kakarot? Don’t you have a home to go back to?”

Kakarot as usual took Vegeta's unnecessarily incendiary comment like a sentient brick wall. “Oh, I wanted to be next to you when you woke up, Vegeta,” he said honestly. Vegeta’s face flamed. “Chichi’s fine with it once she saw Goten was fine.” He suddenly noticed Eighteen in the room. “Oh, hey Eighteen! You wanted to check on Vegeta earlier, right?”

Vegeta turned to stare bemusedly at the android, who looked back at Kakarot with a raised eyebrow. “...not the words I’d have used, but yes,” Eighteen said, amusement lacing her slightly monotone voice.

“What?” As she approached the bed, Vegeta was sure he was experiencing a face spasm. What could Eighteen possibly want with him? Any antagonism he’d had towards her had dissipated over the years. And Vegeta appreciated her formidable ability and unique skill set on the battlefield, as he did her brother. But beyond that, there was nothing for them to discuss. Perhaps a bit rudely for a prince and someone who had been on Earth for more than a decade, he demanded brusquely, “What do you want?” 

Eighteen’s cool expression didn’t even flicker. “For you to not be an asshole for the next two minutes - this will already be hard enough.” 

Vegeta frowned as she came to stand by his right side, opposite of where Kakarot was. “What?”

“Krillin’s looking after Marron right now,” Eighteen told him, though Vegeta didn’t ask. “She has some bruises and scratches _because you almost_ **_threw her and Goten into a cliff_** **,”** the android’s voice sharpened, but Vegeta wasn’t about to apologise for doing what he needed to in the heat of battle, and she didn’t ask him to. “But she’s mostly fine. So. Thank you for protecting my daughter on that planet.”

Before Vegeta could say anything, she leaned in unexpectedly from the right side of the bed and _kissed him on the cheek._

Vegeta’s brain stuttered to a halt. Even as he flinched away, eyes wide with shock, his weird shit meter just about exploded.

Eighteen **_kissed_ ** him. On the **_cheek_ ** . And **_thanked_ ** him.

Vegeta wasn’t sure which part of that to be more shocked about. He **_was_ **fairly certain that his face had turned red, given how it felt like it was currently on fire. 

From his left side, Kakarot started laughing, the traitor. “Your face!” the younger saiyan gasped out, between puffs of laughter. “Vegeta - your face! HAHAHA - oh, I wish we could get a picture!”

“You hold him down while I get a camera,” Eighteen said seriously. She wasn’t laughing merrily as Kakarot, but her smile was definitely one of laughter. Trapped between a scary android wearing a slasher smile and a laughing maniac traitor of an idiot who he was going to strangle the next time they sparred, Vegeta did what any sensible person would do, and tried to run.

His face in flames, the prince moved to get out from the bed, opting towards the left so he could hit Kakarot for good measure as he made his escape. “I’m leaving-” he announced, “-this conversation, this room, this planet, this entire universe-”

But a strong hand suddenly gripped his wrist. “No.” Kakarot was frowning at him as he tugged the prince back. “You’re staying here until Dende says you’re clear.” It was a demand, an order and not a request.

Everyone was surprising him today, it seemed. Vegeta blinked at the boldness, before his brain caught up. “I’m fine, Kakarot.” He moved to shake off the hand, but Kakarot didn’t allow it.

“No, Vegeta.” Kakarot’s voice was low and almost angry, a jarring contrast to his previous cheer. “You’re not going anywhere. Dende says you’re not clear yet, so I’m not gonna let you go.” 

“Kakarot, you’re making a fuss about nothing.” Vegeta tugged his wrist, feeling his hackles start to rise. “Now get your hands off me - don’t be so familiar.” He was conscious of Eighteen in the room.

Kakarot was unrepentant. “Only if you agree to stay in bed.” The younger saiyan was in a combative mood today, it seemed. He raised an eyebrow cockily in a challenge. “I’ll fight you on it if I have to, Vegeta. In this state, you know I’ll win. Easy.”

Vegeta’s jaw dropped open at the nerve. How dare he. “I can drive your face into the ground right now and any fucking day, Kakarot.”

“Oh, I’d like to see you try,” Kakarot taunted. “But not right now. Bed, Vegeta. That’s an order.” The other saiyan moved to stand, still gripping his hand. The height difference between them was never a thing- Vegeta’s personality more than made up for his size, he could intimidate foes with just a glare - but in this space, Vegeta suddenly felt small and threatened. He really, really didn’t like that.

“You know damn well how I react to orders, Kakarot, so fuck off- I’ll do as I please.”

If Vegeta wasn’t watching, he would have missed the moment Kakarot’s face morphed into something more stormy, something darker. “Oh yeah, sure, like you always do,” Kakarot said, his belligerent tone making it an aggressive comment. 

Vegeta really didn’t like this. Not just the body language nuances, but the rest of it. Vegeta didn’t like Kakarot reacting like **_this,_ ** towards **_him_ **, with the cold anger usually reserved for enemies. Kakarot’s usually sweet disposition was gone. There was a time he would have welcomed it, played it like kindling a fire, but not any more. The prince was unsettled to realise it. 

How has things escalated so quickly from light teasing to this antagonism? Before them, Eighteen watched their conflict unfold without speaking.

“What’s up with you, Kakarot?” the prince spat out coldly. “Out with it. Something is clearly bothering you, and while you can be _sickeningly_ charitable, I’m sure it has nothing to do with my wellbeing this time.” Oh, Vegeta was falling back to his defense mechanism of purposeful offence, it seemed. Inside, he died a little in shame.

Kakarot frowned, lips twisted in a pout. _Don’t give me that soft look, you moron, tell me what’s going on._ “That’s not true,” he argued. “I do care about your wellbeing, I want you to rest, Vegeta.”

“Well, you’re doing a grand job of getting me there,” Vegeta said sarcastically, knowing his tone was cutting. He was using Kakarot’s heart to guilt trip, probably making the other saiyan angrier in the process, and they both knew it. _Self destructive as always, Vegeta, why are you like this_? “Absolutely brilliant job, Kakarot.”

Kakarot scowled at him uncharacteristically in clear irritation. “Stop that, Vegeta, I know what you’re doing.” He did. They both did, that was the blasted thing, they knew each other too well.

And suddenly Vegeta was tired of this, tired of his own self-destructive patterns, tired of arguing with Kakarot, tired of everything. As the most stubborn person in all 12 universes, the prince could hold on to an argument and be at a standstill forever… but he… didn’t really want to. Not with Kakarot. Not anymore. He said as much.

“Well, I don’t,” Vegeta said tiredly. Fatigue bludgeoned him like a hammer. Kakarot, sensitive and considerate as ever even when upset, blinked at him in concern, some of the fight leaving his eyes. “I don’t know what your problem is, Kakarot, but you’re not usually like this.” _And it upsets me,_ he didn’t say. Some things were still too hard. “I can’t read what you’re thinking, so why don’t you tell me.” 

Well, Vegeta could have probably tried to test their mental post fusion connection to find out what the hell the idiot was thinking, but that required vulnerability on his side as well, and Vegeta was not yet ready to initiate that. Unsure that he would ever be.

The younger saiyan’s mouth worked a bit. “Well, it’s - you’re always doing this. Tricking me. Going behind my back. Telling me you’re fine when you’re not. I don’t like it!”

Abruptly, the desire to settle things peacefully made a swift exit. Vegeta gaped. Where the fuck had that come from? “What the hell, Kakarot? As if you don’t do the same!”

“Not like you do,” Kakarot argued stubbornly. “I know when to call it quits. But Vegeta, you’ve done it so many times! You told me you had a plan but you were lying. You just wanted me to go. Even when you went Majin -” Ouch, that was a sore spot for Vegeta, and Kakarot **knew** it- “you tricked me and knocked me out, then you went to fight alone!”

It hurt a little because he knew it was true. “That was way back then, Kakarot.” Vegeta said softly, bitterly. But he knew more than most that time didn’t really matter. This argument was making less sense by the second, but that point, he could understand. He had never asked for Kakarot’s forgiveness, but he preferred to show apology through action rather than words. “It’s not like you to hold a grudge until now,” the prince sneered. “Good- maybe you’re finally learning to be less naive and forgiving.”

Kakarot let out a sound of frustration. “Ngh, it’s not like that, Vegeta! I’m just -I’m not good with words-” He huffed. “I guess, I just want you to stop being like that.”

“Stop being like what?” Vegeta asked. His heart hurt. Kakarot had always accepted him for who he was, forgave his abrasiveness and his worst sides. This felt like rejection.

But Kakarot surprised him. _It’s not that, Vegeta._ Instead of answering, Kakarot’s eyes met Vegeta’s dead on in determination, willingly opening their mental channel and flooding everything through it. And the prince found he couldn’t look away. 

_Please stop trying to take on everything alone. Please stop sacrificing yourself . Please stop being okay with getting hurt. Please stop lying to me. Please stop tricking me. Please stop telling me you’re fine when you aren’t. Please... trust me more._

Vegeta… couldn’t. This was too raw, too vulnerable, digging out all his skeletons and laying them in the open, naming them one by one. He only chose to address the last one. _I do trust you, Kakarot._

He did. Save his family, there was no other person that Vegeta trusted the way he trusted Kakarot with his weakness, no other person capable of breaking him the way Kakarot could, should he ever desire to try. It was a terrifying realisation.

Kakarot’s mental voice lost a bit of its aggressive, desperate edge. _Sometimes, it doesn’t feel that way. I’d really like it if you... leaned on me a bit more._

 _You can’t expect that of me when you don’t trust easily either, Kakarot._ It was true. Kakarot was quick to give second chances to enemies, but his trust had layers. And he didn’t really lean on anybody either.

 _I guess it’s something we both have to work on?_ Kakarot offered almost hopefully.

 **_I_ ** _don’t want that. I’m your equal, not someone you have to protect or look after, like one of your friends._

Fond exasperation. _But Vegeta, we_ **_are_ ** _equals. Doesn't mean we can't look after each other, too._

There was warmth and affection and acceptance, familiar emotions. Reassuring. Then suddenly they were spinning headfirst into dangerous territory. Something was happening. Strange feelings started to merge into each other, feelings both of them were yet to interpret, and Vegeta could no longer tell which one was his and which was Kakarot’s. 

A part of him was curious to see what this would lead to if he let it continue, but the other part of him was too entrenched in self-denial to stay. With heroic effort, the prince stepped back, forcefully shutting off the mental link. Kakarot didn’t fight him on it, likely thinking along the same lines.

Vegeta’s heart thudded anxiously. While it seemed that his conflict with Kakarot was resolved for now, they really needed to work on this mental link before it got too invasive.

* * *

Eighteen had watched silently as the two hot-headed saiyans had almost come to blows. Truth be told, she had seen this coming. She could tell a storm was brewing from the set of Goku’s jaw when she dropped by earlier, as he’d kept vigil over Vegeta’s prone, then-unconscious form.

 _Talk to him about it,_ she’d advised, purposely leaving it cryptic. Goku had looked at her in confusion, and she’d left it at that, leaving the room.

In hindsight perhaps it had been a mistake, or perhaps Eighteen should have been clearer. Goku had tried, the poor soul, but it rapidly escalated into something else. Like with all arguments, it started with one small point that wasn’t the actual issue and rapidly spiralled to another, until it was a tangled mess and you could no longer understand what the actual point was, only that you were hurting each other more and more. As a spectator, it was painful to watch, but also quite endearing.

They were too cute, really. Like well meaning, but very confused children. Two dumbasses trying to find their way around and navigate the complex maze that was each other, tripping and messing up and breaking things in the process. Eighteen felt almost sorry for them. They were two grown men who valued their privacy, but here in the space of emotions and affection, they were little more than kids. It reminded her of Marron somewhat, the rare days her little girl was being difficult because she couldn’t communicate properly what she wanted.

Should she try to help them? Eighteen wasn’t a busybody, but she didn’t mind crossing the line when she was invested in something. Voices rose heatedly and fell, and finally culminated in the two saiyans merely gazing at each other in a battle of wills, clearly an unspoken conversation going on between them. 

As she watched them look into each other's eyes, Eighteen rolled her own and wondered if this was the perfect time to butt in. She imagined saying, _Oh for heaven's sake, will you two just kiss already._

She decided: to hell with it. 

She said it.

Goku and Vegeta’s reaction was utterly priceless. In the years to come, looking back on that moment still had the power to set her off laughing. They both sprung back from each other simultaneously, like they’d just been shocked. Technically, she supposed, they had been. 

“Eighteen - what-” Goku sputtered. 

“What the fuck.” Vegeta, perhaps more aptly, spat out.

“I meant what I said.” Eighteen put her hands on her hips. “I can’t help it, you guys were gazing into each other’s eyes so lovingly.”

Goku was conspicuously silent, but Vegeta snapped, “It’s not like that!” The prince glared at her. “You are fucking weird, woman.” 

Eighteen looked at him coolly. King of Self-Denial. Actually, both of them were. They deserved each other, honestly.

Eighteen vaguely wondered if she should force them into a confrontation now... 

... but ultimately knew it wasn’t her place. She shrugged. “Suit yourselves. Find me if you ever want to talk.” 

Both saiyans uncharacteristically looked almost unnerved . Eighteen smirked. Oooh, what a power trip.

Well, she’d opened the box of secrets and forcefully made them look. Tossed them without care straight into the chasm, and now they couldn’t ignore it, or walk back down the ledge. She was satisfied.

“Eighteen..” Goku said weakly, trailing off. He was clearly lost, unable to handle the awkwardness in the air. 

Time to be a little gentle? Eighteen did feel a little responsible for them. Goku who had indirectly saved her, and was actually quite a sweetheart even if a clueless one, and who she had led to this point of argument; and Vegeta, who was no less of an asshole, but one who had saved her daughter. She decided to have mercy on them both and hand them an escape they gladly took.

“You should rest now,” she told Vegeta, who was still exhibiting unnatural pallor despite his denial. “Goku, I believe you wanted to stay?”

The stubborn prince opened his mouth, but she just shook her head and raised her voice. “Vegeta, don’t. You won’t win this. You’re going to rest, Goku’s going to stay, and you’re going to let him. I **_will_ ** get Bulma and Dende and the whole team involved if I have to,” she threatened. “Do you really want things to escalate that far?”

Vegeta looked furious. “What a cheap throw,” he began, but Goku’s soft voice stopped him. 

“Vegeta,” Goku said softly, full kicked puppy expression on. No wonder he had Vegeta wrapped around his finger. “Please… just go back to bed? I just want to make sure you’re okay…”

And finally the prince seemed to deflate and agree, though there was much grumbling about it.

* * *

Vegeta was dreaming. He dreamt of Shenron, and scraps of teal blue gi on the ground, and kind eyes fading away from memory, and an eternal goodbye. 

He couldn’t explain why he felt so sad, only that there was a terrible, terrible sense of loss and heavy grief. And that it had to do with Kakarot.

It was with these alien feelings of sorrow and a deep, desperate need to find Kakarot that he slowly woke up another time.

As he did, he became aware of the sensation of warm, calloused fingers stroking his temple. Vegeta would have punched away the contact usually, but this felt -nice. Soothing, as he lay drifting in the line of wakefulness and peaceful sleep. 

With some effort, Vegeta opened his eyes to meet Kakarot’s own obsidian one. Kakarot started a little, faltering. He looked strangely nervous, even guilty, but ultimately didn’t remove his hand. Vegeta was glad. Kakarot’s presence was a comforting balm to the strange heaviness in his heart. Already he was forgetting his dream and its residue of sorrow. Kakarot was right there with him, so what was there to worry about?

The younger saiyan smiled down at him, something both strained and relieved in the tilt of his lips. “Hey Vegeta.” His voice was uncharacteristically low and deep, Vegeta noted drowsily. It did something strange to his insides, something he wouldn’t read into now.

The prince hummed, his best attempt at a tired greeting back. Kakarot looked fond. There was an edge of quiet but fierce protectiveness in his gaze. “I can tell you’re in pain. Just rest, okay?” A gentle request that was really an order. “I know that’s really, really hard for you, but try.” 

Vegeta wanted to say something about a pot and kettle too, but for once, he really, really didn’t have the energy to argue, or be difficult just for the sake of it. He fell to sleep again, the sensation of Kakarot’s palm a reassuring, perfect weight against his forehead.

  
_Full credits to the artist, unknown as of now. I take no credit, only heart melting with love._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The last bit Vegeta dreams about is a reference to GT's ending + my fic, Never Forget You, which now has a podfic accompanying it :) Feel free to read the story if you wnat to understand a bit better why Vegeta seems so sad.
> 
> I'm really anxious about this chapter. I'm scared I didn't keep everyone in character, or that some things didn't make sense. I really tried. I kept worrying about the smallest bit of this fic. Any thoughts? 
> 
> Re the argument scene, I know some parts didn't make sense/was very fractured but that was purposeful on my part. tried to make it as realistic as possible to a real argument. where it starts with one small issue and escalates to encompass lots of other issues and resentments not spoken, until you're left wondering why you were arguing in the first place.
> 
> Next chapter will be up in two to three weeks, realistically, because I want to do these babies justice and life has been overwhelming. :') If you're struggling yourself, reach out to me.
> 
> Big thanks to thewingedlady for beta reading. You're amazing.<3


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